Caspian's Queen
by Francienyc
Summary: On board the Dawn Treader, Caspian wonders if the queen Narnia wants him to return with is in front of his very eyes. CaspianLucy. Now complete!
1. 1 Another Door in the Air

Chapter 1: Another Door in the Air

Caspian was leaning over the railings of the _Dawn Treader_ near the forecastle. He felt a little like Reepicheep at the moment; he wanted the adventure to get going as quickly as possible. The trip had been pleasant up until then with lovely banquets on the Seven Isles, and the tournament on Galma which had been good fun, but Caspian was not in the mood for state visits and pomp and circumstance just then. The spirit of a real adventure was running through his blood, and he did not want that hindered by court niceties.

He found everything was most hindered at Galma, their first stop. He hadn't fared too badly in the tournament, though he did have a couple of nasty falls, and his side was still tender from a well placed jab with a lance. That part he was fine with, but at the banquets every night the King kept sitting his daughter next to him, and that was when Caspian shrewdly discovered the plan the Narnian nobles had for him. He was planning to come home with the seven lords, his father's friends, but Narnia was also hoping he would come home with a wife.

He personally felt that he was far too young for that, especially since he was just getting to having a good time now that all things were set straight and peace reigned in Narnia. Besides, he often reasoned, none of the four monarchs had been married in the Golden Age of Narnia, not the High King or the beautiful Queen Susan whose hand was courted far and wide. They had never been married, and their reign was the most notable of all. Caspian had seen a good deal of "court romance" when his Aunt was Queen Prunaprisimia because she loved the intrigue, but he found it deadly dull. It seemed to be all bowing and hand-kissing and false compliments and dropped handkerchiefs. Nothing real or fun or stirring about it.

The Galmian Princess wasn't a bad sort of girl, really. True, she wasn't very pretty always squinting down her nose, but she was nice. She spoke to him pleasantly over dinner and seemed interested in his voyage, though she did say she would never like to spend so long on a boat. However, when she showed him the castle or walked with him, it was obvious she knew nothing about the stables or the dogs, and when he challenged her to a friendly shooting match, she was forced to admit she couldn't even string a bow. Caspian did not think much of this, but he was too polite to tell her that the fairest Queen in all of Narnian history was also the nation's best marksman. When she came to visit him after his wounds from the joust had been tended and he was nicely bandaged, she fainted away, and Caspian decided then and there that courtship was definitely not for him. Not if this were the sort of girls he was expected to love, girls who couldn't even stand to see the sight of bandages. Why, Queen Lucy had been the first to tend Reepicheep's battle wounds, and he had been very bloody indeed.

When they left port, Caspian waved once to the Galmian court from the gangplank, and walked immediately to the forecastle with Reepicheep to discuss the adventures that lay ahead. Drinian had then approached them ostensibly to ask Caspian to help with the oars, but as they walked towards the hatch, he whispered to him, "The King of Galma had hopes you might marry his daughter."

Caspian stared at Drinian and laughed. "Oh no, my friend! She is not the queen for me." And he said no more but went down the hatch to row.

Several days later, when they came upon Terebinthia, the message came that there was sickness in the land. As they pulled around to an uninhabited place to water, Drinian added "It's too bad. They say the women in Terebinthia are uncommon beautiful." He smiled at Caspian and played his trump card. "The legend is that even the High King Peter succumbed to a Terebinthian Lady's beauty."

Caspian looked at him, but said nothing. Only the fact that he liked Drinian more by the day kept him from getting frustrated with the innuendo.

Now they were approaching the last of the known world, the Lone Islands, and Caspian hoped that he could avoid talk there by saying he didn't wish to marry one of his own subjects. He would be glad indeed to get on with the voyage and not worry about romance, which always seemed unnecessarily complicated anyway.

The day was bright and everything was blue, the dark streak of sea rushing up to meet the sky at the horizon. The ship was running forward fast, propelled by a steady strong wind. Caspian resolved to put all the tiresome thoughts of romance behind him and licked his lips and tasted the salt on them. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and felt it thick with brine and seaspray. Drinian said they were making excellent progress.

Caspian was staring intently at the horizon, wondering how far they had to go before the sky really would meet the water. He was thinking about worlds he had heard of as a boy, worlds that were round where you could live on them upside down and never run into the horizon when all at once the strangest thing happened.

It was all so quick that later on, Caspian was fairly sure he was the only one on board who had seen the whole thing. Right in the middle of the sky a doorway opened, and there were three figures standing on its edge. He could just glimpse a Spartan bedchamber beyond them, and he knew it must be a doorway to another world. Caspian thought three things almost at the same time: "I wonder if we shall reach them; Aslan made a door in the air like that once; I only know of four people who have come from another world to this." He was getting to wonder why there were only three and not four when they fell off the edge and into the water quite close to the boat.

Caspian snapped out of his reverie at once. "Hi! Drinian! Rhince! Man overboard!" he bellowed. Instantly his cry was echoed by the man on the fighting top. He pulled off his sandals, keeping his eye on the swimmers the whole time. He had just gotten the left one off when one of the boys grabbed the girl and they went under the waves.

"Allow me, sire!" Reepicheep called, running forward.

"Don't be ridiculous! How is a mouse going to keep two humans twice its size above water?" Caspian snapped. "I'll go help them," he informed Rhince, who was steps behind Reepicheep. "Stand by to pull us up, and make sure he doesn't try to jump in after me!" He gave a stern glare to Reepicheep and dove off the side of the ship.

He surfaced with a cough; the water was much colder than he thought. He barely gave it a second's thought before he began looking around for the people. He heard cries and swam in that direction; fortunately they were still quite close and just over the crest of a wave. One boy was treading water, holding the arms of another who was apparently a very poor swimmer, and the girl was struggling with the current. He recognized them as Edmund and Lucy, but the fact didn't register. His only thought was to get them safely aboard.

Caspian caught the girl with his arm and waved up at the ship. He saw Drinian and Rhince organizing the men, and a second later they cast out ropes. Caspian caught one with his free hand and called to Edmund. "Here! Help me! Can he swim on his own?"

"For a second," Edmund guessed, and he let go of the boy he was holding, who flailed in the water but managed to keep his head above the waves. They turned their attentions to Lucy, fastening the rope around her as a team, but not thinking a word of greeting. Then they waited while the ship righted so they could hoist her up. Once she was safe on board, they threw the next rope down. Caspian fastened this around Edmund who had caught the stranger again.

There was a tense moment for Caspian after Edmund was pulled up because he was now holding this wailing boy who was trying desperately to swim but was only making it more difficult for Caspian. The rope was thrown a bit too far away, and it was hard to swim to it and hold on to the stranger, but he managed it in the end. Then he tied the rope around himself. As he was being pulled up, it struck him who he had just helped, and he was quite impatient for them to pull him safely aboard so he could greet the King and Queen.

Lucy recognized him first, and gasped "Ca—Ca—Caspian!" with such delight underneath her apparent shock that Caspian grinned.

"So it is!" Edmund cried, and he grinned too. Caspian was almost too happy for words, and he wrung their hands and clapped them on the back heartily. The only thing that kept him from embracing them both was their soaking state.

Their companion was somewhat less pleasant. He complained, he did not understand about Talking Animals, and he was sick twice within the space of five minutes. By the time they all went below to change, Caspian was thinking of giving him to the Galmian princess.

Of course he gave his cabin to Lucy, who would now be the only lady on board, but he felt he ought to apologize to Edmund, who was her senior—and his. "I am sorry I can't offer you better accommodation," he said as they entered the small cabin on the lower deck, "But this isn't a big ship."

"Never mind that. This is perfect," Edmund said, looking around with shining eyes. "And between you and me," he added in a whisper, "it's a good sight better than his house where we were staying. You never saw anyplace duller in your life."

Caspian couldn't restrain a laugh, even though it made Edmund's kinsman, Eustace, complain about his head.

Eustace continued moaning about a miserable seasickness, so they left him in the bunk and went to find Lucy. She came out of his cabin presently wearing his clothes. He couldn't restrain a grin when he saw her. The tunic that ended well above the knee for him was as long as a dress on her, hanging somewhere around midcalf. There were wet patches on her shoulders where her two braids rested on the fabric, and she had pulled his belt so tight there was a long strap of leather trailing from her waist. She was grinning, and she looked so comfortable that he didn't think she looked ridiculous in the least. But that was Lucy. She always made him want to smile.

As they told of the trip to this point (and Drinian _had_ to mention the Galmian princess, though Caspian played it off to Lucy) Caspian couldn't help thinking that Reepicheep was right: the only thing that had been lacking to that point was Lucy and Edmund.

* * *

_A/N: Look ma, no angst! Or, to be perfectly honest, no angst until the very end._


	2. 2 Sailing New Seas

Chapter 2: Sailing New Seas

They were several days out of the Lone Islands, and the weather was fine and fair. Caspian was still flush with his victory over Gumpas and pleased that they had already found one of the seven lords. All in all, the trip was going well.

One afternoon he had come up from the cabins where he had just been discussing their course with Drinian and Rhince. The sun was warm on him even as he climbed up the hatch, and the wind was fresh when it struck his face. He took a stroll around the main deck, and as he made his way aft, he saw Lucy's golden hair billowing in the breeze on the poop deck above him. He went to join her.

She was playing chess with Reepicheep, who was in one of his rash moods and playing poorly. She looked up from the board and gave him a smile, but Reepicheep was too busy seeing battles play themselves across the squares to notice him until he had moved his piece. When this was done, he drew a breath and bowed his head. "Sire."

"Hello, Reepicheep," Caspian said genially. He then saw Lucy reaching for her bishop out of the corner of his eye. He bent close to her ear and whispered "If you take his knight with your castle, you'll have the game in fewer moves."

"Thanks," Lucy said, turning to him. She moved her castle accordingly and asked "Won't you sit down, Caspian? Without your help I think I'll lose another game to Reepicheep."

This wasn't at all true as Lucy was winning handily, but she was trying not to make Reepicheep feel bad, and Caspian liked her the better for it. He obligingly sat down and helped her win the game. Reepicheep was gracious about it as always, but he quickly excused himself to the forecastle. Caspian moved across from Lucy and began to set the pieces up for another game.

"I'm afraid I won't be much of a match for you," she said modestly.

"Nonsense. I'm not terribly good at chess, and you are a fair player yourself. Battle strategy is one thing, but chess is another. Your brother has beaten me handily several times already."

"Edmund beats everyone at chess. I would love to see him play Reepicheep."

Caspian chuckled. "I would like to see that myself. We'll have to see if we can coax them to it."

Lucy's eyes sparkled merrily, and she moved her center pawn.

Caspian was supposed to be thinking of his next move, but he was studying Lucy instead.

"Caspian! Aren't you going to play?" Lucy asked.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, sorry." Caspian's cheeks turned a very little bit red as he moved his own pawn.

"What were you thinking about?" Lucy asked presently.

He looked up from the board and squinted at her, debating whether to tell her or not. Finally he made up his mind that he would tell her, and he said "To tell the truth, Lucy, I was thinking about you."

"About me!"

He smiled at her surprise. "Indeed. And you cannot imagine what I might have been thinking?"

Lucy's cheeks flushed quite crimson. "No, I can't imagine."

Though it was fun to see her blush so furiously, Caspian decided not to prolong teasing her. "It occurred to me that you are not like other Queens." He moved his queen's pawn.

"I suppose not," Lucy said thoughtfully, leaning her chin on one hand and twirling a chess piece with another. "I never was." She moved the piece forward and frowned. "Come to think of it, I'm not very much like other girls, either. Girls in my world, I mean."

"But is Peter like other boys? Is Edmund? It seems to me you would have to be extraordinary to journey into another world. Even Eustace is extraordinary—in his way," Caspian reasoned, planting his piece with a click of certainty. He looked at her with merry eyes. "Besides, from what I've seen so far, other Queens and other girls don't make nearly as good shipmates."

"Caspian! Are you mocking me?" Lucy chided.

"No! I tell you the truth. When I was in Galma the princess there told me 'My lord, you are a brave soul, but I can't imagine spending so long at sea!'"

Now the laughter shone in Lucy's eyes. "This was the girl that squints?"

Caspian snickered. "Yes. There was that too." He folded his arms and examined her face while she chewed her lip and thought about her next move. "So what is it, Lucy? Why are you not worried about the state of your dresses and your toilet? Don't you miss the comforts of a soft bed and solid land? I haven't heard you breathe a single word of complaint since you came on board."

"Complain! How could I? I'm back in Narnia. I'm home." She looked about her with bright, happy eyes. "This is all I could ask for. My dresses don't matter, not now that I'm on an adventure."

"That's Lucy," said a third voice. Both turned to see Edmund surveying the game with a flagon of wine in his hand. "She was always the adventurer. If Susan had found the lamppost first, I don't know if any of us would have gotten into Narnia."

"Where's Eustace?" Lucy asked at once.

"Ugh. Don't talk to me about him. He's in another one of his foul tempers, blithering on about how nothing's done right in Narnia. It was all I could do not to throttle him, so I came to find some civilized company." He drew up a stool to watch the chess game and nodded to Lucy. "We should talk of pleasanter things. Tell Caspian about when you first came through the wardrobe, Lucy. Lantern Waste."

Caspian turned to Lucy, who said in a quiet whisper. "I went to look in the wardrobe and I found myself not among coats, but among trees. It was alarming, but it was the most excited thing that ever happened to me. Once I knew I could get back all right, I couldn't simply leave the country undiscovered. I had to go and see."

Caspian turned his face to the east and looked hard at the horizon and felt the sun shining on him. "Of course," he murmured. "Any sensible person would."

The storm came then next day, rocking the ship with waves and creaking the very frame of the Dawn Treader. Eventually Drinian sent even Caspian below decks with a curt "The last thing I need to worry about in this storm is the King of Narnia getting washed overboard."

He tried to lie in his hammock but the pitch of the ship made it swing so much it made his stomach lurch. Moreover, both Eustace and Edmund were in there and the weather and close quarters put them more at each other's throats then ever. Caspian longed to tell them both to shut up, but he was too courteous for that. Instead he jumped out of the hammock and went upstairs.

Lucy was curled on the bunk with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the painted panels with a rather dulled expression. "Hello, Caspian," she said, making an essay at cheerfulness. "What brings you up here?"

"Drinian sent me below and I couldn't abide Edmund and Eustace sniping at each other, so…here I am."

"Do sit down then. It was getting dreary down here all by myself."

There really wasn't anyplace else to sit, so Caspian climbed onto the bunk with Lucy. "Still no complaints?" he asked with an arch of his eyebrows.

Lucy graced him with a "look" that he knew only a lady could pull off. Then she sighed and the moment of coquetry vanished. "This storm is one of the worst I've seen at sea."

"Well, it had to come sometime, I suppose. We've had such fair weather up until now."

A crack of lightning cut through the room, illuminating everything in eerie relief. "Still, I could have called myself happy without it." She turned to Caspian and seemed on the point of saying something else when she exclaimed, "Why, Caspian! You're white as a sheet! Don't tell me you're scared?"

"It's—well, the Telmarines have their superstitions, and—" he stammered.

Lucy slipped her hand in his. "It's a bad storm. I think even Drinian's scared."

As if to confirm this, there was a terrific crash on the deck above. Both of them jumped, and Lucy shied against Caspian. He put his arm around her shoulders as an automatic move of protection. "I can't go on listening to those noises. It's bad enough to see this storm, but to be here below imagining is so much worse. Let's take our minds off this. Tell me of happier times. Tell me about Narnia," Lucy said.

Caspian smiled down at her and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "We'll trade stories and pass the time that way."

She nodded and leaned against him. Lucy's trust and confiding spirit made him feel a little bit braver and a little bit better. He settled back and started telling her about the longstanding debate between Trufflehunter and Trumpkin which had begun the day after his coronation.

The rain continued, and they passed several days in this manner. It wasn't exactly what you could call pleasant, but it was calming to think of other things. Sometimes Lucy would come down to his cabin and start Edmund going on a good battle story. Once he made Caspian laugh so hard about Rabadash dangling from a hook that the king forgot about the storm altogether for a moment. Of course Caspian's peals of laughter made Eustace, who was down with a terrible bout of seasickness, complain, and that put an end to the lovely time. It had been nice for a moment, though.

One day Caspian and Lucy were alone again, and Lucy was talking about another of Susan's suitors.

"She seemed to have a good many paramours," Caspian remarked.

"Oh, yes! It seemed there was an ambassador every month asking for her hand. And Susan would get so turned by the flattery she'd forget to look at the man who was asking. That's how she got so involved with Rabadash. I wouldn't have looked at him twice. I could see that his mouth had a cruel turn and his eyes were hard. But she loved the poetry he recited to her and his beautiful manners."

Caspian smiled. "So you think there's more to love than pretty words?"

"Of course. When it was finally my turn and the emissaries came to ask for my hand, I wouldn't even look at them unless the man came himself." She giggled. "Honestly, I think that Peter and Edmund were relieved: they had so many troubles with Susan."

"No one ever caught your interest?" Caspian asked.

"Not really. The good ones, the sincere ones, they were nice enough, but—"

"They were just nice," Caspian offered. "Nothing more."

Lucy nodded. He sighed. "I found out on Galma that Narnia is very anxious I should get married."

"You don't look very enthusiastic about the idea."

"I'm not. Not if the girls are all so…delicate. If I marry it should be someone who can be my partner. Who can come on adventures with me."

"Who can understand you," Lucy added.

"Who makes me feel something real."

They fell silent. The rain lashed against the windows, and it was a sound that they were so used to they hardly noticed it anymore.

Then there came the night where Caspian heard an almighty crash. He knew this was more than just the normal groans of a ship, and he was out of his hammock in an instant, staring with wide eyes at Edmund. He was not surprised to see Drinian burst into the cabin and cry "Quick, we've lost the mast! We've got to get every last man on deck, my liege!"

Caspian nodded, and he was not too gentle with Eustace as he shook him awake.

"I'm ill! Leave me alone, you brute!" Eustace whined from the bunk.

"Oh get _up_, you great prat. We've lost the mast and you've got to get up and help," Edmund said shortly.

"I tell you I'm ill!" Eustace snarled.

"It doesn't matter," Caspian said. "There's no time to lose; we've all got to do it or the ship might well sink."

"I don't care if it does." With this pronouncement, Eustace rolled over.

Edmund's eyes sparked with anger and Caspian set his jaw. He yanked the blankets off Eustace and Edmund pulled him bodily out of bed. "Get out there now," he said in a quiet but commanding voice.

Even Eustace did not dare disobey him, though he grumbled under his breath the whole way. Caspian was feeling more impatient and more worried by the second, and the delay was wrenching his stomach into knots.

They met Lucy on the deck of the ship. She was not pretty or gay, but though her face was gray there was determination in it. She and Edmund nodded to each other and they both followed Rhince together. Caspian followed them with Eustace, who was still grumbling.

"Making a sick man work like this," he said disgustedly as they set to, "I doubt my life would have been much worse if I _had_ been sold as a slave."

"Nobody would buy you," Edmund retorted shortly but wryly. Though the comment was cruel, Caspian almost wanted to laugh.

"We've all got to do our part tonight," Lucy put in. "Look at Reepicheep over there. Right now he would give up his whiskers and his fur and his very tail just to be large enough to help. Do stop complaining, Eustace. It only makes things worse."

All the while she by Edmund's side and never breathed a word of complaint.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not usually so prolific; I just had these two chapters already. I wrote them while stalemated on The Way to Narnia, so I figured I might as well post._  



	3. 3 The Calm after the Storm

Chapter 3: The Calm after the Storm

The calm after the storm was more than they anticipated. After days of being tossed about, the sea was as flat and calm as a lake. The Dawn Treader was at an impasse: they had water for twelve days. The return to the Lone Islands would take eighteen at least, but to go forward was to go into the unknown. Caspian took council with Drinian and Rhince in the stern cabin; Reepicheep, Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace joined them.

"If we do go back," Caspian said, "The men will have to row. They can't do that on only half a pint a day."

"If you knew anything about biology, you'd know that perspiration cools people down," Eustace put in. "They'd be fine, and it would be better than going on into God-knows-what anyhow."

Edmund was very red in the face, and Caspian felt he would have liked to say something to Eustace himself, but he put his hand on Edmund's arm to council silence.

"Before we decide what we want," Reepicheep said, "We must ask the lady on board. We cannot take her forward against her will."

"And what about _my_ will?" Eustace demanded. "I'm hijacked on this boat. Nobody ever listens to me—I'm practically a prisoner."

"Peace, Eustace," Caspian said. "It's only right to ask a lady." Here he turned to Lucy.

Lucy looked round at everyone and said at once, "It's obvious—we must go on. We can't turn back and expect to get there in time. We must go forward instead, and seek what lands are in front of us. Besides, I couldn't bear the thought of abandoning a quest."

Caspian wanted to clap when he heard this, but he restrained himself. Reepicheep did let out a merry "Hear hear!" but Caspian contented himself with saying "We've heard what Lucy has to say. Now all the rest. All in favor of going on, say 'aye'."

There was a chorus of "ayes" around him, from Drinian's booming voice to Reepicheep's piping one.

"On it is, to see what land lies ahead," Caspian declared. He was ready to get up when Eustace spoke again.

"Perhaps _nothing_ lies ahead," he said nastily. "Don't you see the dangers of wishful thinking? We could be sailing to our deaths."

"Yes, yes, 'Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink' and all that rot," Edmund said. "Fine. You know we can't row back. What's your brilliant idea, then?"

Eustace stuck his nose in the air. "It's not my job to get you out of these scrapes when you get yourself into them. I say again I'm practically a prisoner on this voyage."

Lucy got up and left without a word. Caspian let this end the meeting. He went up on deck and found her at the stern, staring at the setting sun. The sky was beautiful, all pinks and dusky purples, with a couple of low, orange tinged clouds glowing on the horizon. Caspian leaned on the railing beside her.

"I feel bad for Eustace," she said. "I know it's hard on him. But he's such a coward sometimes! He's afraid to try anything. And I just don't understand how anyone could be in Narnia and not love it. Why, the first two times I was here I was caught up in wars! It seems to me he really has very little to complain about."

He gave her a wry smile. "I am going to borrow some courtesy from Reepicheep and say that it would not become me to speak ill of your kinsmen. Otherwise I might agree heartily."

Lucy's glance was one of suppressed mirth.

If Caspian was impressed with Lucy's steely resolve the worst night of the storm, he was even more impressed during this time when they sat on the becalmed sea. Indeed, Drinian and the whole crew were impressive, lashing a new mast with the bowsprit and rigging part of the sail to catch any breeze that might blow.

Still, Lucy did all she could to help. She never complained, though perspiration ran down everyone's faces and necks and the heat nearly drove them mad with thirst. Moreover, she did what no other soul on the Dawn Treader could do; she put up with Eustace.

Caspian's courtesy towards her cousin was wearing thin; Edmund's had long since been used up. At dinner Caspian served as equally as he could without measuring mathematically, and still Eustace whined—there was no other word for it—that he did not get as much as everyone else.

Immediately, Lucy took some of her food and stretched her arms towards Eustace's plate. "Here. Take some of mine. I'm not very hungry."

"Yes, you are. You're not looking well, Lucy, and I don't want you to give him your food. You need it, and he's got enough," Edmund said.

Eustace glared at him but said no more, and Lucy kept the food on her plate. Caspian noticed, though, that from the way Lucy ate she must have been very hungry indeed. He didn't know if he could have offered someone his food so willingly, especially if it was someone he wasn't overly fond of.

There were no stories now; everyone was far too hot, too feverish, too thirsty. There came a point where Caspian was on deck looking at his bedraggled men and wondering if he had not led them on a fool's chase. A sick fancy of dying at sea in this calm started to take hold at the corners of his mind. He knew he better get below to rest before he started to go mad, even if it did mean abiding Eustace for awhile.

He was about to turn the handle on the cabin door when he heard Lucy's voice inside. "Here, Eustace. Take some water. You're ill, and girls don't get as thirsty as boys."

Even Eustace muttered a word of thanks.

Caspian pushed the door open gently. Lucy was kneeling next to the bunk where Eustace was sprawled out and covered in perspiration. She turned to him quickly.

"Is it Edmund?" Eustace demanded.

"Hush! No, it's Caspian."

Eustace raised his head from the pillow and looked at Caspian. "You can't make her keep the water, I already drank it!"

"Eustace, calm down. You should rest if you're feeling feverish," Lucy said. Her voice was deliciously cool and soft. She looked up at Caspian. "Please don't tell Edmund. He'd be furious with me, but I couldn't let Eustace suffer."

"I won't," he promised with a small smile. "But you should rest yourself." He went over to her and raised her up. "Don't worry about Eustace. I was just going to rest myself, so I'll be here with him. Come, Lucy. Let me take you above."

She looked at him with grateful eyes and made no protest as he walked her to her cabin. He made sure her windows were open and peeled back the bedclothes for her. "Try to get some rest," he said. "We all need it, especially you."

"Thank you, Caspian," she said.

"Of course," he answered softly. He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes for a moment. The blue of them was cool like water, and his fevered visions slipped away. He turned and went to his hammock below.

By remembering Lucy he was able to be a little kinder to Eustace. A few minutes later Edmund came in with a groan.

"So bloody hot," he sighed. "Where's Lucy?"

"I sent her to her cabin to rest," Caspian answered wearily, one arn flung over his eyes.

"Good. I tried to send me upstairs, but she wouldn't let me. How's he doing?"

"Asleep, finally."

"Well you are the bearer of good news," he said. "That's the best situation one could ask for short of land in sight."

Caspian managed a short chuckle. Edmund clambered past him into the other hammock and they both fell asleep.

To be sure it was a troubled sleep, and Caspian tossed often in his hammock, but he was still irritated to be woken in the middle of the night. He made his way with Edmund into the main hold of the ship and found the entire crew assembled around the water cistern, staring at Reepicheep and Eustace.

There was a good deal of noise and grumbling, but as soon as Reepicheep saw the Caspian he said shrilly "Thievery, your Highness! This knave has been stealing water!" he pointed at Eustace with his rapier.

"What d'you mean, _I'm_ stealing? What are you doing sneaking around the water cask in the middle of the night?" Eustace demanded.

"I cannot be of aid above deck so I offered to watch the water here below so that one more man may get some sleep. I have my sword. You are the one who has a cup."

"I never knew anyone to use a sword for drinking," Drinian commented.

"To insinuate that I would in any way deprive this ship, or my king, or a lady of what they need is nothing short of insulting. Apologize, or duel. I cannot allow such slander to continue even if you are of royal blood," Reepicheep said fiercely, waving the tip of his sword less than an inch before Eustace's nose.

Eustace did apologize, but he started spluttering about feeling ill right afterwards. Caspian cut him off. "Anyone who is caught stealing water in the future," he declared with weary authority, "will get two dozen."

The sailors all nodded. No one wanted to be cheated out of water. Of course, this had no effect on Eustace until Edmund whispered to him what Caspian meant. Then Eustace's face turned quite green. Caspian sighed and walked heavily back to his hammock. _Here's Lucy giving her water away when she's just as thirsty as the rest of us, and Eustace can only think of getting more._

There was a breath of wind the next day, and Caspian almost cried with relief. He stood on the deck with Lucy and Edmund and let the breeze cool his cheeks and play in his hair.

"What I would love most right now is a good strong gale, one that blows your hair in your face and flaps through your clothes," Lucy declared.

"Or a cold, clear lake I could drink from until I thought my stomach would burst," Edmund added.

"This is almost enough," Caspian said. "It's almost a gale after all those horribly still days."

They were interrupted from their daydreams but the glorious call from the fighting-top "Land, ho!"

All three of them rushed forward and peered over the side of the ship. There, on the southeast horizon, was a grey shape of mountainous land sitting above the sea. Edmund gave a hoarse cheer which several of the sailors echoed.

Caspian looked at Lucy, whose eyes were shining. "Water," he said. "Your brother may get his lake after all."

"And we shall all get an adventure," she whispered.


	4. 4 The Queen Adventurous

_A/N: What can I say? There's not much else to do in a blizzard. Oh, and the little parenthetical notes (1) and (end 1) show where I took dialogue directly from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, specifically the chapters "The Adventures of Eustace" and __"How the Adventure Ended."_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 4: The Queen Adventurous

It took them the better part of two days to reach the bay of the island, but on the first day there were gulls and on the second they caught fish, and though everyone had to wait for the extra water ration until they dropped anchor, the mood of the whole ship changed. The sailors started to whistle again. Edmund leaned over the sides of the ship and speculated on the terrain and what they could expect to find on the island. Lucy started smiling, and Eustace started his complaining all over again. Even so, this couldn't bother Caspian. He felt almost weak-kneed with relief.

The next morning the whole company of the ship loaded into two boats and made for the island. As Caspian looked back at the ship, his heart sank. The Dawn Treader was no longer the gallant little ship that had been cheered in the ports of the known world. Now, after the toil of the storm, she was a discolored hulk that looked likely to sink at any moment.

Drinian laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, your Majesty," he said. "We'll fix her right up to be the ship you know."

Caspian smiled thinly. "Of course."

Things started looking up when they came ashore. The country was desolate and forbidding, but it was hard to think about that when the water was so cold and so fresh. For a few minutes everyone took long drinks and bathed the grime and salt off them. Caspian made the rounds of the seamen, who were looking happier than they had for days, weeks even, and it did him good to hear them laughing and talking at their ease. He wandered a little ways from them, following the stream through the woods.

The air in that place was cool, and Caspian breathed it in deeply. The solitude of the woods was starting to gnaw at him, though, until he heard splashing and laughter. He stepped into a clearing and saw Edmund and Lucy in the middle of an epic water fight. Both of them were shouting and laughing at the top of their lungs. Caspian's first impulse was to join them, but something held him back. Lucy hit Edmund with a great wave of water which caught him off balance. He wound up sitting in water up to his chest, and was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Lucy was looking down at him, her dress splattered from shoulder to toe with water, her hair dripping, her mouth laughing. Then she looked Caspian's way and smiled at him and that made his heart skip a beat, though he didn't know why.

She beckoned him forward and he came to the water's edge. Edmund stood up and waded over to Caspian, pushing his dripping hair out of his eyes. "In these forests," he said, gesturing to the trees growing on the far bank behind him "We are likely to find a new mast for the ship. The trouble is finding a path to drag it through."

Caspian followed the movement of his arm and was considering this possibility when all of a sudden he was assailed with a huge splash of water. He blinked and saw that Edmund was laughing. He returned the attack and they all splashed in the water for a minute, until he heard Drinian's voice calling through the trees. He got out of the water before Drinian and Rhince arrived, but he was so soaking wet that Drinian had to raise an eyebrow.

Caspian cleared his throat. "Yes, Drinian?"

"We…need to get to work, your Highness. There's much to be done for the ship."

"Of course, of course. Lead the way," Caspian said, trying to be as businesslike and kingly as he could in his sodden state. He knew it was ridiculous, and when Lucy stifled a giggle he half turned to raise his eyebrows at her, but a suppressed smile was on his lips.

They had a busy afternoon, and it was only the beginning of the work that had to be done. Still, Reepicheep wandered among them men giving words of good cheer, and Lucy, among the piles of sewing, started humming an old Narnian song which she patiently taught to Caspian, who in turn taught it to everyone else. Soon the woods were ringing with song, and Lucy worked patiently and steadily on every task she was given. Though she gave a longing glance at the bows of the hunting party, she sewed with good will.

Then as they settled down to dinner and a break at last, Edmund wondered "Where's that blighter Eustace?"

He hadn't shown up for the meal, which was odd, but everyone supposed he was off sulking somewhere and figured he'd return by nightfall. But then the rain came and Eustace didn't return, nor did he answer any of their calls, or the call of Caspian's horn when he blew it.

Lucy was very white when he didn't return at the call of the horn, and Edmund was irritated, but the kind of irritated that conceals worry underneath. "Confound the fellow," he said. "What on earth did he want to slink away like this for?" (1)

Caspian wanted to say that Eustace merely wanted to be a nuisance, but Lucy's stricken face kept him silent.

"But we must do something," Lucy said, "He may have got lost, or fallen into a hole, or been captured by savages."

The others had a good many things to say about this until Reepicheep silenced Rhince with admonishments of courtesy toward the Queen's blood. Then Caspian said in a weary voice (for he was not feeling particularly charitable just then) "Of course we've got to find him (if we _can_). That's the nuisance of it. It means a search party and endless trouble. Bother Eustace." (end 1)

But he began to select men for a search party and had Rynelf ensure that they were properly equipped with bows and arrows in case they had to fight for Eustace. He left Edmund and Drinian in charge with the rest and set off to search for him. Lucy stood at the edge of the camp, watching them go.

He didn't have much time to think of what an annoyance Eustace was because the terrain was so challenging. They forced their way through thickets of brambles, scaled hillsides. The country was all dark greens and browns, and the only sound around them was the trees dripping in the rain. In that silence, Caspian began to grow seriously alarmed for Eustace.

And then they came to the crest of a valley and saw the dead dragon. Caspian felt sick at the very sight of it, but Rynelf said wisely "If the dragon is dead now, it doesn't seem likely that it was killing people a few hours before."

"Still," said another, "It's not comforting to know that we're on an island with dragons."

"Let's find lower ground," Caspian said shortly. "It seems unlikely that Eustace could even climb this far. We shall have to think more logically if we're going to have any hope of finding him."

They trudged on wearily, searching all the lowlands until the light gave out. Then they found the beach and made their way back to camp. As they walked back without Eustace, Caspian pondered what on earth he was going to say to Lucy. She had looked so pale and worried when they left, even in that moment he admired her tender heart which had so much charity even for Eustace.

As they neared the camp Lucy came running out to greet him. As it happened, he didn't have to say anything. She saw the news in his face even before he had spoken. Then Rynelf told of the dragon, and even though he made sure to mention that it didn't seem much of a killer, but Lucy's face sank so much Caspian put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Lucy. Don't give up hope. We'll go out again tomorrow as soon as it's light and search. We won't leave the island till we find him."

She looked up at him and her eyes were bright with tears. She nodded.

"Come," he said. "Let us all get some rest. We have a long day of searching tomorrow."

As it turned out he didn't get much sleep at all. A scarce couple of hours later Drinian was shaking him, saying "Your Majesty, wake up. It's urgent."

Caspian sat up at once, and his sudden movement caused Edmund to awaken too. "What happened?" Caspian asked "Is Eustace back?"

"No," Drinian whispered urgently. "You'd better come and see for yourself. You too, King Edmund."

Both of them rose and buckled their swords around their hips. They followed Drinian towards the ship, stumbling slightly from exhaustion. All of Caspian's drowsiness left him as he saw what was on the beach. A dragon, a young, fierce looking dragon lay on the beach between them and the ship.

"The man on watch saw it fly over the trees and land," Drinian explained quietly. Caspian saw at once what Edmund put into words.

"There's no way we could get everyone on the ship. We're cut off."

"We must go back and tell everyone. The only thing to do is fight it," Caspian said. He looked at Edmund, who nodded, and he noticed that the way the king set his jaw was exactly like his sister had when it was time to work against the storm. Drinian was standing straight and tall, and he felt better knowing these two were beside him.

Together they went back to the others and roused everyone. He hadn't the heart to wake Lucy, sleeping so peacefully at last, to danger, so he left her to her brother.

It was a weary business telling all the storm tossed crew that a dragon was between them and the beach. Then of course Reepicheep wanted to challenge it to single combat, and he was so vociferous on this point that Caspian had to threaten to have him tied up. He prepared the men for battle and laid out a formation for meeting the dragon at daybreak. He commanded that a meal be served and the last of the wine drunk to give everyone courage, but still, the intervening hours till the dawn were awful. Finally it was light enough to move forward. Caspian exchanged grim glances with Edmund and Drinian, and they all marched down to the beach.

Yet as they approached the dragon it did not attack, but retreat. Odder still, it seemed to shake its head.

"What's it wagging its head like that for?" said Edmund. (1)

"And now it's nodding," said Caspian.

"And there's something coming from its eyes," said Drinian.

"Oh can't you see," said Lucy, "It's crying. Those are tears."

Drinian warned her not to trust it, but Edmund realized the dragon was responding to their conversation and Reepicheep stepped forward to demand "Dragon, can you understand speech?"

When he ascertained that it could, though it could not speak itself, he asked the dragon to raise its paw in friendship. It did, and that's when they all saw, and Lucy exclaimed "Oh look, there's something wrong with its leg. The poor thing—that's probably what it was crying about. Perhaps it came to us to be cured like Androcles and the lion." She started towards it at once, feeling at her side for the catch on her pouch that held the diamond vial.

"Be careful, Lucy," Caspian called, his heart in his throat. "It's a very clever dragon but it may be a liar."

Lucy paid this no heed; she was already hurrying toward the dragon with Reepicheep. Caspian, Edmund, and Drinian followed at their heels. Without hesitating or shrinking away, she administered her medicine to the dragon. Caspian watched closely to see if the cure worked, but he was surprised with a jolt of recognition. "Look!" he cried.

"Look at what?" Edmund asked.

"Look at the device on the gold," said Caspian.

"A little hammer with a diamond above it like a star," said Drinian. "Why, I've seen that before."

Caspian's heart was beating in his throat. "Seen it!" said Caspian. "Why, of course you have. It is the sign of a great Narnian house. This is the Lord Octesian's arm-ring."

And then everyone thought that the dragon ate Lord Octesian, but it denied this. Lucy suggested the dragon might be the Lord Octesian, but this was not the case either. Then Edmund dared to say "You're not—not Eustace by any chance?" (end 1)

From the dragon's reaction of tail thumping and head nodding and the copious amount of boiling tears, it became apparent that this was Eustace indeed. Everyone was sympathetic, but none so much so as Lucy. She gathered the courage to do what he had never seen anyone do: she kissed a dragon.

Eustace became such a changed character that as Caspian stirred the fire one night, Rhince said it was a pity he had to become a dragon to be nice.

"He might be disenchanted yet," Lucy said hopefully.

"Perhaps," Caspian agreed with a smile.

She got up. "Come, Edmund, he looks lonely. Let's see if there's anything you and I can do for him."

Together they went off to where Eustace was lying some distance away. Caspian turned to watch them go.

"Drinian," he said softly, "You have known more ladies than I."

Drinian laughed heartily. "That may well be true, my King."

"Then tell me," he continued, "Have you known a lady to work like a man aboard ship? To kiss a dragon?"

"In truth, no. What are you thinking of, King?" he asked with a knowing smile. "Did I speak too soon in saying that the women of Terebinthia are so beautiful? It seems to me you are an admirer of the Narnians."

"For more than mere beauty," Caspian answered.


	5. 5 The Fancies of the King

Chapter 5: The Fancies of the King

Eustace was, as Edmund put it, "un-dragoned" and much improved. The Dawn Treader looked gay and seaworthy once again. Despite the storm and the calm and the adventures with Eustace the dragon, Caspian was eager to move onward and seek still more adventure. He was encouraged that they had found the fate of two of the lords so quickly, lamentable as Octesian's fate was.

They put out and found Burnt Island the next day, which was uninteresting except that Reepicheep found his boat there. Then there was the adventure with the Sea Serpent, a terrifying moment which left them all laughing with relief. That night they feasted on the deck of the Dawn Treader, and the air was thick with stories and songs. Caspian told of his war against Miraz and the battle of the High King Peter; the sailors told all the sea legends they knew. Then the singing began, and the whole company joined in the chorus. The harmony of all the voices was a cheerful sound that echoed over every inch of the small, proud ship. After they had exhausted all the songs they knew, Edmund got up and taught a sailor who was good on the pipes a tune, and he struck up an old Narnian marching song that hadn't been sung in that world for hundreds of years. Edmund's voice was far more musical than one would expect, and as he danced around the lantern-lit circle, the flash in his eyes brought to life all the half-forgotten campaigns he and his royal brother had led. Caspian felt a thrill travel down his spine. All through his childhood he had dreamed that the old stories were true, and now King Edmund the Just was singing in a blazing voice before his very eyes. He could hardly believe that all this was real, that he wouldn't wake up and find himself a boy in Miraz's dull and vaguely dangerous castle all over again.

After the merriment broke up and everyone went to bed, Caspian found he still had Edmund's tune in his head, and it was so stirring he couldn't stay in his hammock. He crept out of the cabin and came above deck.

The Dawn Treader, normally so full of voices and crowded with people, was a peaceful ship at night, under the moon. The moonlight was so bright he had no trouble seeing anything; it was just that the whole ship looked so magically silver in that light he didn't want to move for fear of breaking the spell of the beautiful light and the old music. The soft breeze carried a soft noise to him, the sound of singing. It was a girl's voice, not artful and accomplished but still beautiful in its clarity. Caspian followed the sound aft, moving as softly as he could. He knew it was Lucy, but he didn't want to disturb her and stop her singing. He reached the top of the ladder to the poop deck and saw her in her white night-dress, a soft garment which reached her feet and seemed to absorb the glow of the moonlight. The light shone silver in her hair, and she was looking out to sea.

Caspian never could decide how old Lucy was. Her slim form was that of a girl, very young still, and the roundness of her cheeks belied the fact that her childhood was not too far behind her. Yet in her manner of speaking, in the posture she struck here and the shades of complicated feelings which played across her face, he thought she must be his senior in age as well as title. He wondered if she felt this paradox, if it were not hard to go back to being a girl when she had already been a woman.

Lucy's song was the natural continuation of Edmund's, an ancient Narnian air breathed to life once more, but hers was a quieter melody, filled with a restive longing. Edmund had made him want to jump up and grab a sword and lead an army to battle; Lucy's made him long for something unnamed.

He didn't know how long the song lasted, how long he stood there, immobile, listening to her and trying to figure out what it was the song was drawing out of him. All he knew was that before its natural conclusion Lucy broke off singing because she saw him.

"Please. Don't stop. I so want to hear the end," he said to her in a low voice.

She nodded and resumed her singing. The song wasn't really that much longer, and after she finished she blushed and ducked her head. "I didn't think anyone else was awake," she confessed.

"I couldn't sleep. Edmund's song got into my head."

"It's not really Edmund's, you know. Peter was the one who sang it the night before he set out on any campaign. There would be a huge bonfire for the troops on the beach by Cair Paravel, and Peter would sing that song for the army to get them prepared. His voice wasn't quite as good as Edmund's but it was strong and noble, and sometimes that was even more inspiring."

"I would have liked to hear him sing it," Caspian said. "Edmund's rendition was stirring enough."

Lucy smiled. "It was. I've always liked to hear Edmund sing. He doesn't do it too often back in our world."

"Why not?" Caspian queried.

She turned her face towards the water again. "Things are different there." Then she looked back at Caspian and saw the bemusement in his face. "We aren't kings and queens, Edmund and Susan and Peter and I, we're just kids. And if we were ever to speak of Narnia, they would think we were mad. Eustace thought we were mad until he got here himself."

Caspian moved next to her and said with a soft laugh "I rather think Eustace thought you were mad until he became a dragon."

Lucy laughed too. "I think you might be right."

"Still," Caspian said, frowning at the reflection of the moonlight on the waves, "I find it hard to believe that you are just ordinary there. Is your whole world full of great heroes?"

"Goodness, no! Our world is full of men like the Telmarines, more worried about money and vanity than glory and justice. It's rather a sad place, especially after Narnia. Sometimes I can see in Peter's eyes that he would like to go riding off into battle to fight all the injustices, but he can't. And Edmund wants to sing his battle hymns, but he knows they'll think him crazy. I catch Susan looking in her closet sometimes and sighing; I know she wishes she could wear all the beautiful dresses she had here and dance at the balls like we used to."

"And you?"

"Me? I just wish I could share it with people. It's awful to have gone to Narnia and seen so many amazing things and yet not be able to share them all. I suppose you must have felt the same, hearing about Old Narnia when you were a small boy."

Caspian nodded, and his eyes grew pensive as he remembered the painful secrecy of Miraz's castle. He wanted to run into the forests and shake the trees till they awoke, but he never could. He couldn't even speak of the thing closest to his heart. And this was Lucy, in her own world. He took her hand out of sympathy, but as he did a thought struck him.

"Listen, Lucy," he said in a voice of quiet excitement. "Maybe it's true that Narnia isn't known to the people of your world. But until just three years ago, it was lost to the Narnians themselves. Then you returned, and you brought all the old stories to life. Couldn't you do that in your world? Couldn't you give them Narnia like you gave it back to us?"

Lucy blushed. "I didn't give it back. It was there all the time. It just needed to be awoken."

"Then awake your world."

Lucy didn't answer him in words, but a fire kindled in her eyes and she clasped his hand in gratitude. The intensity in her face made him a little uncomfortable. He needed to talk again, so he asked her, "If Edmund's song was about going to battle, what was yours about?"

"Mine? That was the song I used to sing when I waited for Edmund and Peter to come home again. One of the satyrs saw me sitting on the western balcony one night when they were gone, and he wrote it for me."

"It is a very powerful song," he murmured.

"It's hard, waiting for your brothers to come home. Riding off yourself is one thing: it's glorious and exciting and even if it's scary, that fear makes you feel a little more powerful. But the waiting, the walking the halls and knowing there's nothing you can do but pray and pace, that is one of the worst things in the world. Edmund was so terribly wounded at the first battle of Beruna that when he was away there were moments when all I could think of was that happening to him again. And I wasn't there with my cordial to help him."

"You speak as if you know what it's like to ride into battle," Caspian commented.

"I do…I used to ride with Edmund more than Peter; Peter didn't like me to come. Edmund was better about it—didn't you know I was at the Defense of Anvard?"

Caspian laughed with surprise. "My Queen, I don't think there's another woman like you in all this wide world! I have never before heard of a woman riding to battle!"

Lucy blushed. "I always wanted to go, but Peter was always reminding me of what Father Christmas had said when he gave us the gifts—'I do not mean for you to fight.' But one day we were out riding and some of the Witch's old allies set upon us. Peter commanded me and Susan to retreat, but we watched from the hill. And Peter was so foolish! He kept watching out for Edmund and not worrying about protecting himself at all, just as if Edmund didn't know how to be brave in a fight. Finally he was in definite peril. Edmund couldn't help him because he was already fighting a huge Minotaur, and Susan's hand was shaking so badly she couldn't even draw an arrow. I took out my dagger and I hit the beast advancing on Peter right between the eyes. After that, Edmund said that if I wanted to I ought to be allowed to go, because I had proven myself in battle. As much as he didn't like it, Peter was forced to admit he was right." She sighed and smiled a little. "I know Peter didn't doubt my bravery or my skill, he just didn't want to worry about me getting hurt. If it were up to him, he would have been the only one to go to war, leaving even Edmund home safe at Cair."

"What then would Peter have made of your adventures on the Dawn Treader?"

Lucy grinned. "He would have been out of his mind with worry during the storm, and like as not he would have made me drink all his water until he got dehydrated when we ran into the calm. But if he could have come, he wouldn't have missed the chance for all the world."

"You miss him."

"More than anything. The only thing that is missing from this voyage is Peter and Susan. I know I shouldn't question Aslan's will, but it's so hard. How can He deny Narnia it's High King?" Lucy's brow furrowed in frustration.

"That is more than I know," Caspian admitted.

Lucy looked up at him quickly. "I'm sorry. I've been going on forever, and now I must have spoiled the evening with my outburst."

"No, Lucy. In truth, there were times when I wish your brother the High King could return to Narnia. I could use his council. But we must be grateful for what we have. I may not see Peter again, but it is more than I hoped for to have Edmund here, and you. And then all the Narnians feel it. When you are here, they understand who we were before the Telmarines, and that is a good thing."

Her eyes were still watching his face when she said "Caspian, you teach me that I ought to be happier. Yet every time you speak, I think of something else I miss. I hate to think of all the things I loved as Old Narnia, old ruins."

"They'll be revived. I shall get the satyrs to write songs for me when I return home. You can help me. And we'll stand and sing them on the terrace facing east, looking out over the sea. Cair Paravel is restored, Lucy. We fixed it all. It's just as you and Peter and Susan and Edmund described it to me."

Lucy gasped with delight and grabbed his arm in her excitement. "Is it? Oh, Caspian! Imagine when we return! Do the mermaids still sing in the water? Is the Chamber of Instruments still there? Edmund spent a lot of time in there, you know. Have you kept some of the apple trees from the orchard? They planted those trees just before Rabadash's emissaries came to ask for Susan's hand. Now I hardly know whether I want to go forward or go home."

"There's time for both," Caspian said, smiling down at her. "And when we get back, you shall sit on your throne of old, and Edmund shall sit on his, and everyone in Narnia will cheer your return." His eyes glittered merrily. "Tell me you have a song for the look of joy on your face, Lucy. I would very much like to hear it."

"I can't sing. I can hardly speak. I'm too happy." She turned and embraced Caspian. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled against him. "I was growing so melancholy, and now I realize just how lucky I am to be back in Narnia." She let him go and stepped back. "So much lies before us. Goodnight, Caspian! More adventures tomorrow!" With that, she disappeared with a flash of white gown and a joyous smile.

Caspian stared after her for a long moment, resting his back and his elbows on the railing of the ship. "I am the lucky one," he murmured softly. He stayed there long enough to watch dawn streak the horizon, humming snatches of Lucy's song all the while.


	6. 6 While Lucy Was Upstairs

Chapter 6: While Lucy Was Upstairs

After they had left Deathwater behind them, the winds began to come from the west and they pressed forward, due now straight east. Caspian was up every morning at dawn to see the prow of the ship pointing directly toward the rising sun, living up to her name in every sense. Rarely was he alone to see this sight. Sometimes Reepicheep would stand beside him, or Edmund, or even Eustace, but more often than not it was Lucy. When she was there with him they rarely spoke, they just stood and watched the sunrise together. Though Drinian and Rynelf said that the sun wasn't any larger, Caspian knew Lucy agreed with his thought that it certainly was.

The trouble was the sea went on and on. There was no break in the horizon. The stores began to get low, and finally there came a day when Drinian told him that they could sail forward the morrow, but if no land appeared then they would have to turn back. He was depressed all day at the thought of abandoning their quest; he went to sleep early and did not get up at sunrise. What finally got him out of bed was Eustace clambering into the cabin shouting "There's land, Caspian! Dead ahead!"

Caspian was out of his hammock at once. "What?"

"Land, I say! Come and see!"

Caspian threw on his clothes and followed Eustace above deck. There, low on the horizon but quite near, was an island.

"I knew we wouldn't have to turn back," Reepicheep said beside him.

"Then you are a mouse of more faith than I," Caspian answered. "Come. I feel too impatient to sit here and wait for us to land. Let's have a game of chess to pass the time."

Reepicheep readily agreed to this, and in a few minutes they were in the stern cabin with the chessboard between them. Reepicheep was playing smart that day, and Caspian didn't have his wits about him, so he was making silly moves. Halfway through the game he saw that he had been making a crucial mistake all along. He was working too hard to protect his queen instead of unleashing her power, and he laughed at the folly of his own courtesy and tried to repair the damage as best he could.

He lifted his queen and paused in moving her to examine the gold figure. "Reepicheep," he said thoughtfully, "Is it true that the Narnians want me to take a queen?"

"I confess, Sire, it is near to all their hearts," Reepicheep said with a flourishing bow.

"But why?"

"I would have thought it would be obvious," Reepicheep answered. "All Narnia wants you to have a queen so that we can have an heir to the throne."

Caspian was disgusted. "That's all you want in a queen? A woman who can bear children? Why, a kitchen maid can do that!"

"Do not be offended, your Majesty. Think of it from our point of view. You are the first King in many hundreds of years who has shown any interest in reviving Old Narnia and giving equality to the Talking Beasts. It is only under your reign that the woods awoke and Narnia became what it was during the Golden Age. If you don't have an heir to inherit the throne and learn from your just kingship, what will happen to all of us?"

As Reepicheep was talking, Caspian finished his move and planted the queen on the board. "But that can't be all you want in a queen."

"I cannot speak for all of Narnia, my lord, but I know that for me I certainly want more than that. I want a queen who is just, and brave, and kind. A queen who loves her king and her country, who has the heart of a lion, who is, in every sense of the word—"

"Valiant," Caspian finished for him. "I see what you mean. And I don't mind telling you, Reep, I would like something like that myself." He looked up. "Well, I will try to do right by my people."

88888888888888888

There was nothing for it. The deal was done, and there was no way they could get out of it, not by honor or combat or stealth, though that was not due to lack of trying on Edmund's part. He hadn't slept all night trying to think of some way to escape. He had even solicited Caspian's help (in whispers, of course, as Reepicheep wouldn't approve) but neither of them could think of anything.

At breakfast that morning Lucy was trying hard to be cheerful, but Edmund could see the strain in her face. It did seem horribly unfair that these faceless people should want a girl. It would have been so much easier if he could have gone himself, mounting the stairs to face whoever this magician was with his sword drawn. He knew he could face evil magic.

Even in that moment he snickered at himself. _Maybe I'm getting a bit too much like Peter_, he thought. Still, it would be hard to watch Lucy disappear up those stairs. He may have spent the better part of their childhood teasing and torturing her, but the truth of the matter was that since their coronation at Cair Paravel 3 or twenty or 1,000 years ago, he had begun to realize that he was really very fortunate to have Lucy for a sister. The invisible people were, as she said, not very brave or very bright, but that didn't mean there wasn't any real danger. He was growing to like these cowards less and less by the minute.

His displeasure must have been showing on his face during their breakfast—which was very queer in its Englishness—because Reepicheep leaned over to him and whispered, "King Edmund, if I may be so bold, it is unseemly to scowl so. Your sister might see your displeasure, and it might make her afraid."

Edmund nodded and tried to talk naturally to Reepicheep and Eustace for the rest of the meal, all the while keeping a watch on Lucy out of the corner of his eye. He left her to be comforted by Caspian, who was seeming very good at that lately.

Finally the moment came when the dishes were cleared and the voices cheered her to the foot of the stairs with their incessant, inane comments. "Ah, there she goes! Never saw a lass who could walk better to the stairs! Keep it up! Keep it up!" till Edmund wanted to spin around with his fists held wide and hit as many of them as he could.

Lucy stared for a moment at the long stair and drew in a deep breath. Then she turned to the Narnians, who were all clustered around her.

"You have but to call," Reepicheep said, "And we'll be at your aid."

"We'll be here waiting," Caspian added. Edmund noticed that he was somewhat paler than usual.

Edmund hugged her. "Take care," he said to her, "and come back safe to us." Her old plea when he rode away to war.

She gave him a smile and started up the stairs. About five steps up she looked back to give them a smile and a little wave. Five steps more and she was at the landing. She turned left and disappeared into the mysteries of the house.

Edmund remained at the bottom of the stairs, staring after her with his hand on the banister. As soon as they saw her disappear, the invisible people all thumped away, leaving the Narnians in a tight cluster in an empty room. Edmund could hear them in the courtyard going about their business. _Beasts,_ he thought viciously. _It's so callous of them to go on as if they haven't a care in the world when they've left Lucy to deal with goodness knows what danger. Cold, unfeeling brutes._

After awhile the others broke off the group and moved about the room, which was so very much like all the sitting rooms Edmund had ever been in back in England. Drinian went and stood by the windows with his hands behind his back, staring over the lawn towards the Dawn Treader with a dark expression on his face. Eustace flopped in the nearest armchair, then, five minutes later, moved to another, then another, making a constant rotation of all the chairs in the room. Reepicheep was pacing with his hand on his sword hilt.

Someone else was waiting at the foot of the stairs alongside him. He turned after a long while and gave Caspian a thin smile, which Caspian returned. "I've never met a braver woman than Lucy," Caspian offered. "I think she'll be fine."

"You're right about that," Edmund agreed. But he noticed that the conviction didn't quite reach Caspian's eyes, which reflected the worry he himself was feeling.

Edmund continued to watch the stairwell for some minutes afterwards, until at last he turned away with a scoff at himself. "I'm growing too overprotective," he declared. "You're right—she _is_ brave. They didn't call her valiant for nothing. And she's always counted on me not to dote on her."

Reepicheep heard this and came over. "Ah, but King Edmund, she is a lady, and it is your duty—indeed, it is all our duties—to protect her. You especially are the guardian of her person and her honor. She needs you."

"That may well be true for other ladies," Caspian said, "but as for Lucy, I don't think she _needs_ anyone. She accepts our protection because it comes from love, but she's more than able to take care of herself."

Edmund laughed. "Now that's true! Susan always went for more courtly manners, and though she could shoot the best of anyone in Narnia, she hardly ever picked up her bow. Lucy was always riding or shooting or hunting for some adventure."

"Did she really ride with you to battle?" Caspian asked.

"She did. She was something to see too, with her bow, commanding the archers. Of course the Calormenes all made fun of her at the battle of Anvard, but she didn't care at all. She was just happy Archenland was safe. If she can take that on, she can take on a magician." Edmund leaned his back against the banister with a thoughtful expression as he said this.

"She's not one in the courtly fashion," Reepicheep commented, twirling his whiskers.

"No, she is not," Caspian agreed. "And I like her the better for it." He clenched his fists and looked down a moment, as if summoning courage. "King Edmund," he said at last, looking up, "There is a petition I want to put before you. Will you hear it?"

Edmund knitted his brows together, unused to such formalities from Caspian. Still, he could see in Caspian's face that this was in fact serious, so he said, "Certainly. What is it?"

By this time Eustace had wandered over to the conversation. Caspian glanced at him and said "Yes, you'd better hear this too, Eustace. Would you excuse us, Reepicheep?"

With a bow and without a question, Reepicheep went to pace the other end of the room, over by Drinian.

"Gentlemen," Caspian began, "Perhaps you know that Narnia is anxious I should take a wife."

"No!" Eustace exclaimed. "How odd, Caspian. You're so young. I mean in our world, back in England, it would be almost mad to start hunting for a wife at your age. It would be—"

"Shh, Eustace," Edmund admonished. "He's trying to tell us something. We've heard of it, Caspian. Go on."

"Well, I have thought the matter over, and I have seen a share of marriageable young ladies here in this world. And I was thinking that, maybe, if you were to come back to Narnia with us, Lucy and I could become betrothed." Caspian's hands looked very clammy as he said this.

Edmund stared at him openmouthed. This was by far the oddest conversation he had ever had. Apart from their clothes, he and Caspian and Eustace could all be schoolmates talking on the dormitory stairs. He had certainly stood like this with both arms stretched out on the polished wood of the banister plenty of times before. And yet here was Caspian talking of marrying Lucy.

"_Bethrothed_?" Eustace gasped. "You're too young, but for Lucy it's illegal! She can't!"

Caspian turned his pale face to Edmund, who said much more quietly. "She's so young. She's still a girl."

"I know. I know. But we wouldn't have to get married right away. We could wait—I would be willing. More than willing."

"There's no telling when we'll go back, though," Edmund pointed out. He spoke softly and kindly because he could see that Caspian's cheeks were so red and his eyes were darting nervously between him and Eustace.

"I know. Last time was so short. But before that, you were here for years. Only Aslan knows, but it might be the same this time." Now a light of hope kindled in Caspian's eyes.

"That's Lucy's and my hope also. But still, Caspian, she's so young." He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This was not how it had gone before. Edmund was unaccustomed to receiving petitions for his sisters. Usually Peter took on the suitors while he offered council to Susan and, less often, to Lucy. He wished Peter were there, although he was pretty sure that even he would have been at a loss for what to say. The suitors who used to come for his sisters had not been his friends. Nor, in fact, had he met such a perfect match for Lucy. Despite being a handful of years older than Lucy—though that would matter less and less as they both got older—Caspian was her equal in every other way. He was intrepid, he was warm-hearted and generous, he loved Narnia and its people. He was even a king, of the right station, though when the florid Galmian duke in his forties came as Susan's first suitor, he and Peter decided then and there that rank and station were the last concern for their sisters. Still, it helped that with Caspian, Lucy could fulfill her greatest wish and be Queen of Narnia again.

Yes, that was the trouble exactly. If the roles were as they should have been and Peter was taking Caspian's petition, Edmund wouldn't hesitate to tell Lucy that she should take the offer. And if she were just a few years older herself, he doubted very much that she would even need his advice.

"Edmund!" Eustace exclaimed. "You're not considering this!"

"Quiet, and let a chap think," Edmund said, shooting a glance at Eustace. He rubbed his chin. The real trouble was that Lucy wasn't even thirteen yet. How could he promise away her whole life like that? Her heart wasn't his to give away, especially when she was too young to even consider marriage a reality. He was sure that for her it was still some gauzy dream in a white dress, if she thought about it at all. _Of course_ he reasoned, _Juliet, the most famous of all lovers, was fourteen. But she came to a pretty bad end._

He looked up at Caspian, prepared in his mind to make the refusal, but the words died in his throat. It had been easy to bid the Galmian dukes and the Terbinthian earls goodbye. He had thought of a good many parting words for Rabadash. But among all of those suitors, not one of them could be called his friend. Now he was face to face with Caspian, and saying no would mean letting down his friend. Not just letting him down—from the look of anticipation deep in his eyes, saying no would crush him.

Caspian, sensing the opening, pressed forward. "I know she's still a girl," he said, "But she will grow. She will not stay a girl forever. And even as she grows, some things will not change: she will always be Lucy the Valiant, the bravest queen of Narnia, the monarch so admired throughout history and first adventurer to Narnia, and I cannot imagine spending my life with anyone else."

Edmund watched him carefully all the while he gave his impassioned plea. He spoke now in a measured voice. "Are you quite sure you are in love with Lucy, and not old Narnia? Forgive me, but you seem to speak more about her legacy than of Lucy herself."

Caspian opened and shut his mouth quickly, and the look in his eyes told Edmund that he had either stunned Caspian with a direct blow or shot impossibly wide of the mark. He remained silent, watching Caspian until Eustace tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "Give him a fair shake, Edmund. You know he's not that sort."

Eustace was not a very subtle person. Caspian overheard, but this seemed to loosen his tongue. "Edmund, you know it's not just that. Lucy is—I've never met anyone like her. She's so brave and so cheerful and so steadfast. When I'm with her, I feel like I'm lucky just to know her, that talking with her makes some of her radiance rub off on me. Please believe me, Edmund."

Edmund looked hard at Caspian and nodded once. _Perhaps you do love her, after your own fashion. But is this really love? Where is the passion? Where is the desire? Caspian's certainly old enough, but he speaks with all of Lucy's innocence, and I can't help but believe him. Can this be true? All of those men who came for Susan—some of them may have loved her, but all of them wanted her bodily. Didn't Rabadash look at her with such hungry eyes? There is no hunger in Caspian's eyes, and I don't understand it. I don't even know if without it, that's the kind of love that can make a marriage. But then, have I seen any of them happily married? All of us were old enough, but Susan never found anyone, even Rabadash was a fleeting affection. Peter may have come closest, but even he didn't know how to create a partnership that would last a lifetime. I calculated too much, I thought too hard. Maybe Lucy, with all her innocence has found the best and truest love. _

Finally Edmund pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Listen, Caspian, I can't make any promises to you now. Lucy's too young. But if she…if she shows she's willing, if she shows she loves you, then you have my blessing."

Caspian stepped forward and embraced Edmund. He didn't say anything. He seemed unable to.

"But listen," Edmund warned. "You mustn't say anything to Lucy. If she knew you loved her she'd marry you anyway, whether she loved you or not. She'd never want to see you hurt. If she agrees, I want it to be all of her own accord."

Caspian nodded. Eustace, looking between the two, threw up his hands and said in exasperation "I'll never understand this world. Just when I think I'm getting used to it, something completely mad happens. We're either finding a lake that turns things to gold and sailing away or finding an English manor house filled with invisible people or my thirteen year old cousin is getting betrothed to a king. I give up. Reepicheep, there's a chess set over there. Match me in a game; I think I'm losing my mind."


	7. 7 Once a Queen of Narnia

Chapter 7: Once a Queen of Narnia

Reepicheep refused Eustace's chess game, saying it would be discourteous to idle the time away while the Queen was upstairs. So Eustace resumed his rotation of the chairs and Reepicheep took up his pacing again. Drinian had not moved from the windows.

Edmund and Caspian looked at each other for a long while. Caspian looked so full of hope and faith that Edmund was rather forcibly reminded of the look in Lucy's eyes when she believed something everyone else doubted. Edmund, meanwhile, was still trying to process what had just transpired, and was wishing mightily for Peter still. He would at least like to talk the whole situation over with someone, and he doubted Eustace was up to the task. He was still too astonished.

Even though his brain churned for a good while, there were still many minutes afterwards when they were waiting for Lucy, and it began to feel like Caspian had asked for her hand days before. Edmund could feel his heart beating against his chest, and he could almost swear he heard Caspian's. The clock struck noon, then one. Maybe Lucy was now under an enchantment. Maybe she had been tempted by some promise—no, that seemed unlikely. Maybe she had simply been silenced, by death or by petrification. Maybe she was prisoner.

The ideas that occurred to him kept getting worse and worse. He felt like he was going to be sick. The blasted creatures had come bouncing in for a noonday meal agreeing in loud voices about how powerful the magician was. The Narnians did not eat. Edmund noticed that when the talk began of Lucy and what her fate might be, Caspian's fists clenched at his sides.

After they ate, the faceless people disappeared with great thumping, and the sitting room was silent again except for the bees buzzing in the rosebush outside. As the clock struck two, Reepicheep began unsheathing his rapier in quick flashes as he walked, as if preparing for a duel.

"When do we go after her?" Caspian whispered to Edmund.

"Not yet. I'll know when—if—something bad's happened."

"How?"

"Call it a sick sixth sense."

Caspian sighed heavily, and even he started to pace around the stairs. Only Edmund now remained, staring up the polished steps with their woven carpet runner as if he could will Lucy down them safely.

The clock struck three.

Edmund began to think that he couldn't wait any longer, that Lucy was probably in danger and he had to go save her. He was just laying his hand on his sword-hilt and nodding to Caspian, who was now close to the stairs again, when he looked up suddenly. They all heard the sound they had been hoping for: Lucy's light quick step running down the stairs. Relief tripped its way through his whole body. Edmund actually took a step up to greet her, but she wasn't looking where she was going and slammed right into him. He wanted very badly to hug her or smile and make some joke to show how happy he was to see her, but he seemed unable to move, or speak.

She took one look at their anxious faces, and though she had run down looking very flushed and happy, her mouth contracted with a little guilt.

"It's all right!" she called to them. "Everything's all right. The Magician's a brick—and I've seen _him_—Aslan."

Then she flew past them onto the lawn, but she left behind her a feeling of relief that was like a breeze. Eustace was already on her heels. Edmund and Caspian followed and watched with silent laughter as she tried to convince the Duffers—who were quite amusing themselves, with their single legs and giant feet—that they looked very nice that way. They agreed with their leader, who mourned their uglification, then they agreed with Lucy, who admired their present state. This went on until the Duffers, though confused, were at least no longer calling themselves uglified. Then they were distracted by the idea of boats.

For the rest of his life, if Edmund was feeling particularly silly he would call water "powerful wet stuff," for the look on the Chief Monopod's face as he chewed his lip in doubt was enough to set him off in peals of laughter. The sight of the Monopods paddling around the Dawn Treader, racing and tipping over had the entire crew in hysterics. For him, though, his favorite part was Eustace running back and forth on the shore trying to properly organize the Monopods as if they were in a gym class at school. And of course they didn't listen to him, "because you can't put things like our Chief," as they said, and Eustace grew more and more red-faced, like a flustered teacher does.

While he was gasping for breath, Edmund looked over at Caspian and Lucy. They were standing together applauding the winner of the latest race, who bounced forward so they could both shake his hand. Lucy had tears of laughter trickling down her cheeks, and when she exchanged a smile with Caspian, he was sure there was nothing in her face but girlish laughter. He saw no shades of romance in her clear blue eyes, and he had to admit that made him breathe a little easier. _Because what if she did love him? And what if all our hopes aren't fulfilled and we had to go home? Or what if we didn't—how would I see her through?_ Edmund couldn't decide which was worse.

He had a few moments that evening where he forgot about watching for romance entirely. Lucy showed them up to the second floor, and Edmund was sorry that he was not chosen to go upstairs for the second time that day. Only this time it was not out of protection, but envy. He longed to explore all the long corridor with its strange looking symbols and glasses. After Lucy's story, he very much wanted to see the magician's book. The study itself was a marvel, full of instruments he had known and tried to use at Cair Paravel, and the magician a calm and learned man. As they ate, Edmund wished he could stay in Narnia just to come back to this island and spend some time under the tutelage of Coriakin. He watched with undisguised fascination as Coriakin traced the whole of their journey based on Drinian's account. He wanted to examine the map forever, especially once he saw the perfect pictures of the islands through the magnifying glass, but Caspian pulled him away. Caspian was far more interested in continuing the adventure and finding the last four lords than he was in spending hours locked up in a study.

They put out the next day with the stern of the ship magically repaired and the sails flapping gaily and all the Monopods shouting farewell from the harbor mouth. Edmund watched the island disappear with a sigh, but as the land of the Monopods dropped astern, Caspian rubbed his hands together and said "Now for the rest of the adventure."

For the next several days it was all sea and sky, with mostly fair weather and a steady, pleasant wind. Those were good days to be at sea, and Edmund clambered about the ship with ease, scanning the horizon from the fighting top or discussing the voyage's progress with Drinian or reminiscing with Lucy.

Whenever he went looking for her he feared he would find her in Caspian's company, and the closeness that he had been noticing before Caspian had spoken to him would be blooming already into some romance. More often than not, though, she was found playing chess with Reepicheep, and this calmed his nerves. After awhile, he began to wonder if the whole conversation had not been a dream, because Caspian himself seemed so excited about the voyage once again and seemed to have no time for thoughts of queens.

In the evenings the company of the Dawn Treader sat together on the deck and told stories under the stars. Edmund loved these hours best of all. He could look round the circle and see all their faces in the winking light of the lanterns: Lucy's glowing eyes and Eustace's newly laughing mouth and the noble tilt of Reepicheep's head and Caspian's glittering eyes. He could hear their laughter and their voices, a stirring melody which blended with the chatter of the sailors and the ceaseless sound of waves. The scent of the sea was in the air and the taste of salt was on his lips. One morning during a rainstorm before they landed on Coriakin's Island he had been in an ill humor and declared he wished they could have gone to America with Susan. Lucy knew he didn't mean it, but as he sat under the vast velvet expanse of sky he regretted he had ever even thought it. Now he wanted to hold the ship back, freeze themselves in time so this moment could go on forever. He felt they were heading towards some conclusion, and though it may be a happy one, the journey was so good that he didn't want it to end.

He sang again, and often. There were so many things that Narnia had forgotten, heroes and battles and great deeds which he had been sure would never be erased when he saw them done. Lucy was patient and reminded him that Narnia was awakening again after a long sleep, but he couldn't be patient. He wanted to pour the old memories into them, make them remember. He felt that he and Narnia were both lucky to have Caspian, who seemed ready to be filled with the old history of his nation. Even still, Edmund grew a little sad to think that the glorious years of his reign were dim shadows of an ancient past to everyone else.

Then one night, one of the sailors struck up a tune on the pipes that made Edmund leap from his seat while Eustace was still in mid-sentence. Lucy did exactly the same, and they stared at each other with shining eyes and open mouths.

Drinian frowned at them. "King Edmund, why do you look so astonished by an old lullaby?"

"This is no lullaby," Edmund declared. "It is the dance for the Midwinter Festival. Just play it a little faster—like so, and you have the song that Lucy and Susan and Peter and I used to dance to every year to open the celebrations." He held out his hand to Lucy. She stepped outside of the circle and took it. Within seconds they were skipping round the circle in the dance the fauns had created just for them. Lucy was always a good dancer and a lively partner, and she remembered all the steps. Soon the sailors were clapping in time, and Edmund had but to close his eyes to feel like his was whirling with his sister on the marble floors of the great hall. The smallest stretch of the imagination led him to hear the trumpets and strings accompanying the pipes. He grinned at Lucy, who gasped, "It's like we're back again: really back. Edmund, do you think it would be like this if we go back to Narnia?"

Edmund never got to answer her question, because now Caspian was on his feet. "This is a merry dance!" he cried. "Show me the steps." So Lucy and Edmund obligingly slowed down to teach Caspian the dance. Since there was no other lady aboard, Caspian called on Eustace to fill in, with much laughter from the whole company—except Eustace, who muttered under his breath about sheer madness again. Finally Caspian had the steps and the two couples started again at full speed. There came a moment in the dance when, back when it was the four monarchs, the boys would switch partners and Edmund would take Susan while Peter danced with Lucy. They reached the exchange, and Caspian caught Lucy with ease. Edmund was so busy watching he hadn't realized Eustace has stopped in front of him.

"Have I really got to dance with you?" Eustace whispered awkwardly.

"No," Edmund answered with a little laugh. "Let's take a seat and watch how Caspian does."

He was impressed. Caspian was a fast learner, and he could keep up with Lucy, who was perhaps the most energetic dancer in Narnia. They matched each other step for step, and their movements were so harmonious that at last Edmund understood what Susan meant when she had said that a dance is the best way to find a match. Undoubtedly Caspian and Lucy were born partners. Edmund examined his sister's face closely, and his heart sank and swelled simultaneously when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a look similar to the one she usually reserved for Peter, full of admiration and affection, but added to that was a flush in her cheeks and a glint in her eyes that made Edmund wonder.

Later that night, nearly everyone but the night watch was in bed. Caspian was swinging peacefully in his hammock, snoring lightly. Reepicheep was with Eustace in the stern cabin, playing one last game of chess before bed, and Edmund chuckled as he heard Reepicheep say "I assure you, you have lost no honour in dancing with a king. I would have done it myself if my stature had permitted it." He knocked on Lucy's door.

"Come in!" she called, and Edmund stepped inside to find her sitting on the bed with her knees tucked up against her chest, staring out the window at the moonlit water.

"You get a much better view on deck," he commented.

"Oh, Edmund!" she said, and he wondered that she sounded surprised to see him. "Yes. I suppose you do."

"Shall we go up, then? It looks like Eustace is about to start losing to Reepicheep, and you know he doesn't do that quietly."

Lucy smiled. "All right. But if Eustace is playing chess and you're here, where's Caspian?"

"Sleeping," Edmund answered quickly. He opened the door for her.

They went on the deck and stood under the stars. Lucy found the Hammer and the Ship, but there were so many stars, and it seemed so many new ones, that she needed Edmund's help to find the Leopard. He pointed it out to her.

"I wish we could have gone on in Narnia forever," she said suddenly.

"Really?"

"Well, maybe not. If we had lived to the end of our lives, we wouldn't be here now. But I think about going home, Edmund, and it always seems so pale and dull compared to here."

Edmund snorted. "All tiresome Latin declensions and boring routine."

"All the girls thinking hair ribbons and movie stars are the most important things ever." She sighed. "I don't mean to complain, but I really don't want this to end."

"I don't either, Lu," he admitted.

"Do you think that there's room for us in Narnia if we go back?"

"What do you mean, room?"

Lucy dropped her gaze to the water. "Well, they've already got a king. I mean, that was why we were here last time, to help Caspian get to the throne. But if we go back to Cair Paravel, that's our castle too."

Edmund laughed. "Lu, you're talking as if this is British History. Yes, I'm sure if it were today and King Arthur showed up, King George wouldn't be too keen on sharing the throne. But this is Caspian." Here his voice got a little more serious as he said, "Do you really think he wouldn't find a place for us in Cair Paravel?"

Lucy turned to him, and in the reflections from the water he could see her eyes very clearly. "You're right. I think that Caspian would be very happy indeed if we stayed. I do hope that Aslan lets us."

Edmund didn't have an answer to this, because he didn't really know what he wanted just then. He didn't want to worry Lucy, but she brought up an important point. What if he ever found himself at odds with Caspian? Was he king alongside him? Could he question Caspian as he questioned Peter or the girls? Surely he didn't have to listen to Caspian's edicts…the encounter on Deathwater was hazy in the minds of all but himself. He had seen the willful streak in Caspian, and he feared it might cause trouble.

He was pulled from these thoughts by Lucy talking about the dance. "…all those Midwinter Festivals," she was saying. "I was surprised how quickly it all came back to me. And do you remember how all the men stared at Susan? It seemed that Peter was closeted up with another of her suitors every week."

"That's true. And so many of them were so worthless. They thought because we were so young and because we were four, Peter would want all the power to himself. They imagined they could buy Susan for a song. That is, some of them. Others were just stupid, and then some didn't love Susan, they wanted her. That's quite different."

"Yes," Lucy agreed thoughtfully with a look much older than her years. "It's very different. Susan never liked those men, though."

"She liked Rabadash, and that's all he wanted."

"Are girls ever smart, then?" Lucy asked playfully. "What about my suitors? Did I ever make a foolish choice?"

"As you never had a suitor you took seriously, I'm forced to admit you didn't," Edmund grinned.

Lucy gave him a wry look, an unusual expression for her. "I'm glad you approve," she said in a voice to match her look. Then she grew softer and more pensive. "They were all much more earnest than Susan's suitor's, and some of them were very nice. But I didn't feel like I loved any of them, not really, and certainly none of them near enough to go away from all of you. I always imagined that when I met the man I was meant to be with, I would know deep inside me. I wouldn't have to think about it. I realized that the moment I needed to ask your advice, or anyone's, he wasn't right for me. If he was right, I would know without question." Lucy tapped her lower lip thoughtfully as she spoke.

Edmund shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know if you're thirteen or thirty," he said.

Lucy glanced at him, then turned her gaze back to the water. "Sometimes I don't know either."

* * *

_A/N: So in the notebook where I planned this, the whole story wasn't going to be more than 9 chapters. Ha ha ha. The next chapter wasn't originally planned. I was going to go back to Caspian's point of view, but after writing The Way to Narnia, I can't resist tapping into Edmund's thoughts on the Dark Island. Sadly, I'm going away to the Poconos where there will be no internet for me; hopefully, though, I'll come back Wednesday with a ton of chapters to post. Hurrah for winter break!_

_ Keep the reviews coming; you know I love to get them, and your kind words and critcisms mean a lot to me. It was a very exciting moment indeed when The Way to Narnia actually garnered 100 reviews. Aside from your thoughts on this fic, I'm also curious. Some people have suggested, and I myself have had the temptation, to dabble in an AU fic after this where Lucy and Edmund and Eustace actually stay in Narnia. I'm usually so canonical I have some reservations, but at the same time, writing the goodbye is going to be so hard I might need the balm of an AU for healing. I'm very curious to hear all your opinions, though.  
_


	8. 8 Dreams and Slumber

Chapter 8: Dreams and Slumber

A couple of days later, Edmund was on the fighting top staring out over the sea, when he saw a dark mountain off to the port bow. It looked odd to him; in those waters the light was so good and so clear that he had been able to see very distant shapes quite clearly, but this land was an indistinct blur. Nevertheless, land was land and adventure was adventure, and the Dawn Treader made for it by oar.

Edmund came down from the fighting top. As they drew near, he saw why the island was so indistinct. Indeed, it was no island at all, or if there were an island, it was in the midst of a black darkness. To Edmund it seemed like the yawning mouth of an abyss.

He was glad to hear Caspian call out beside him "Keep her back!" The boatswain stopped the splashing of the oars and Caspian asked to the company in general "Do we go into this?"

Drinian said, "Not by my advice," and several sailors said he was right.

"I almost think he is," Edmund agreed, staring ahead of them and discerning nothing. He cast a glance to where Lucy was standing close by with Eustace and saw that she was rather pale. Eustace was white as paper.

Caspian nodded and Edmund was sure he was about to give the order to turn the ship about when Reepicheep asked "And why not? Will someone please explain to me why not."

Drinian still objected, pointing out that it would be of little use. Edmund thought this was rather a poor argument, especially when debating with the most impractical mouse in the world, and of course Reepicheep seized the opening and declared that it wasn't about use but honor, and to turn away would be dishonorable and cowardly. Edmund very nearly smacked his forehead. Reepicheep was wonderfully valiant, but he lacked foresight. Edmund had traveled into darkness for more than curiosity's sake and he was lucky to come out of it alive. What he really wanted to do was shake his head and quote Shakespeare by saying "Discretion is the better part of valour." But he remembered that Falstaff had said this, and Reepicheep would be little moved by the arguments of a former fool. He would much sooner take up Henry's cry of "Once more into the breach, my friends, once more!" Still, Edmund hoped that Caspian had the sense not to listen, but the young king said "Oh, _bother_ you, Reepicheep. I almost wish we'd left you at home. All right! If you put it that way, I suppose we shall have to go on. Unless Lucy would rather not?"

Edmund knew that he said this out of more than mere courtesy, and he also knew that however white her face might be she would agree to go on. If she hadn't said, "I'm game," that would have surprised him.

He bit his lip uncertainly. To go into this darkness was folly; he knew it. He had been down that road before and it had brought him and his family not honor, not adventure, but a battle with death. It had caused Aslan's death. Reepicheep's thirst for honor and gallantry was his Turkish Delight. Edmund knew this dark place would bring them no fulfillment, no joy, but would instead suck those things away. Yet to explain this would be to admit his own grievous fault to Narnia. Reepicheep might be at his throat for his betrayal, and he was sure the confidence Caspian bestowed on him would be shattered. No, he couldn't do it. So he reasoned that perhaps one had to travel to the darkest places to learn, and that Reepicheep could use the lesson. He said nothing, and he tried not to look at Lucy.

She went up to the fighting top armed with bow and arrows. Edmund stood in the bows with Rynelf and Eustace and Caspian and Reepicheep. They had put on their mail when the island grew nearer in preparation for exploring, and now they stood armed, their drawn swords reflecting the last of the sunlight. Edmund saw the lantern in front of him grow brighter as the darkness loomed closer. As they plunged forward, he twisted round and looked at Lucy on the fighting top. She was still in the sun, and her hair was glowing like a halo around her face. Then the mast and the fighting top slid into the blackness, and he could no longer see her face, but the masthead light reflected a little of the gold of her hair.

"If Reepicheep has proposed anything that brings her harm…" Caspian left this whispered threat vague.

Those were the last words Edmund heard for a long while. He could hear Eustace breathing heavily beside them, and he could hear the monotonous splash of the oars, but these were small sounds which were quickly swallowed up by the blackness. Edmund closed his eyes and didn't like that it made so little difference whether he kept them closed or open, and he waited apprehensively for something to come out of the darkness. He peered into the water, and in the dim light of the lantern it looked thick and oily. He began to shiver with the cold.

Then there was the scream. An inhuman scream so full of abject terror that Edmund felt everything inside him shrivel. There was a space of moments where he nearly fainted away, the sound of it frightened him so. He heard Reepicheep and Caspian speaking but he couldn't understand them. He had only just pulled himself together when they helped the man aboard.

The man was wild and savage looking, as though he was losing his intelligence, his humanity, as well as his mind. _What is this place that we are sailing into that it robs men of their very being?_ He stared with such wide, dilated eyes that it looked as though his pupils had absorbed the blackness that surrounded them and took all the color out of his eyes. He looked directly at Edmund and he nearly screamed "Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly!"

When he explained "This is the island where dreams come true," Edmund's breath came so quick he felt winded. He did not need the explanation that it was not daydreams that came true here but real, honest dreams. He was not a daydreamer, but he was one whose nightmares haunted him.

"Your Majesty, your Majesty," protested Reepicheep, "Are you going to tolerate this mutiny, this poltroonery? This is a panic, this is a rout."

Edmund wanted to find the words to express the horror but they couldn't come. He wanted to hug Caspian when he heard him bellow "Row, row! Pull for all our lives. Is her head right, Drinian? You can say what you like, Reepicheep. There are some things no man can face."

"It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man," Reepicheep answered, and just then Edmund agreed. He would give anything not to be afraid in this moment, even if it meant surrendering all his intelligence. He prayed hard that they might burst forth into the daylight, but all the while he kept his open until at last he heard the sound that churned his stomach and stopped his heart. He heard the sleigh bells. They were somewhat in the distance, but they were hollow and empty of music. He knew whose sleigh they belonged to. He wanted to scramble up to the fighting top to make sure that Lucy was safe, but he feared that if he did she would be stone by the time he reached her. He could barely bring himself to glance up to where she was and assure himself that her hair was still reflecting gold.

If the White Witch came aboard it would happen all over again. She would kill Caspian and Drinian, she would turn Lucy and Eustace to stone, and—he could hear this now too—she would sharpen her stone knife and the dwarf would jerk his head back.

If his dreams were really about to come true then Susan and Peter would suddenly appear. He never wanted to see them less in his life. He waited as the bells drew nearer for the sound of Peter's footfalls on the deck. He closed his eyes and he knew that they weren't any closer to the sunlight, and he couldn't even pray anymore through the sick dread that filled his heart.

Then Rynelf cried "Look!" and though his voice was hoarse, his cry sounded very loud above the unsettling whispers and imagined sounds. Edmund followed the line of his arm and saw ahead of them a speck of light. A great beam emanated from it, illuminating the whole ship. Edmund blinked in the sudden light. Peter was not there. Caspian was still alive and Eustace was still human. Among the gasps and cries of the crew, he could no longer hear the sound of bells.

At the same moment, both he and Caspian turned around to look at Lucy. She was gazing at the end of the beam with her steady eyes, and because Edmund was looking so closely at her, he didn't realize that the light was coming from an albatross until it fluttered around her. It must have said something to Lucy, because even as it flew ahead to guide the ship her whole face lit up with hope and surety. Edmund knew then that Aslan was with them.

Caspian took a step towards the fighting top, and the expression on his face echoed Lucy's. He didn't say anything, but the strength and courage was back in his eyes.

Relief had barely begun to surge through him when they burst into the sunlight. Everyone crowded around the newcomer, and only the interest he created kept Edmund from hugging Lucy as she came down from above. Even still, he couldn't stop a couple of tears from rolling down his cheeks. The day and the summer sun had never felt so good to him.

After this, Aslan sent them a boon of a steady but gentle wind, and sun-drenched days which warmed the deck of the Dawn Treader. The weather was so mild that nearly everyone slept on deck. Edmund stayed on the poop deck those nights with Eustace and Lucy and Caspian and Reepicheep, and the chatter of the sailors diminished as the night wore on and they dropped off to sleep. Edmund found he could lie still for hours with his hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the wide Narnian sky. He didn't sleep much; he found when he was this contented he didn't need much rest. The gentle rocking of the ship was lullaby enough.

On one of these nights, Edmund was staring up at the moon, which was setting above him. The whole deck was bathed in its gentle glow, and he was thinking of the nights when he was king and he would take long walks on the beach by Cair Paravel. Those hours had been his few precious moments where he was truly alone, and sometimes that was a nice thing. Of course, he realized that solitude was a luxury only when he could leave it at will and return to the warmth of his family.

He thought he was awake by himself, enjoying one of those solitary moments again, but then he heard them whispering together.

"I took many astronomy lessons from Doctor Cornelius, but I never learned of these stars," Caspian said softly.

"I can't remember them either, and I knew the stars so well when I was here. Do you know, Caspian, I think we are looking at stars that no Narnian has seen before?"

Caspian didn't reply, and Edmund wondered what he was thinking. But presently he heard Lucy say "I know. When I think of things like that—that of all the people in the world since its beginning only three at most have seen these waters, the most delicious thrill runs through me."

Caspian was still silent, and Edmund raised himself up on his elbows so he could see them. They were clear in the pale moonlight; Lucy was looking up at the sky, and Caspian was looking at her with a gentle expression in his eyes it was fortunate Lucy could not see. Eventually he said, "How do you know, Lucy? That's exactly what I was thinking."

She turned to him and shrugged. Edmund raised an eyebrow. That elegant toss of the shoulders was something she had definitely borrowed from Susan, and he wondered if she did it knowingly. She said, "Caspian, I've just realized: do you know what we can do if we are the first to see these stars? We have the right of explorers. We can name the constellations."

"That's a wonderful idea. If I had worked a little harder on my astronomy with Doctor Cornelius, we could even make a star map."

"Better still, we can ask Coriakin to do it for us when we get back to his island. I'm sure he would," Lucy replied. Edmund noticed that she was talking about returning now too.

"Yes, he would," Caspian agreed. "So then, my lady, I leave it to you to name the first constellation."

Lucy giggled a little but studied the sky carefully. "All right, I have one. Do you see those stars over to the north? There are five of them in a line, very bright, and two just off to each side."

Caspian leaned his head closer to Lucy's to see it from her point of view. "Yes."

"Then I would say we should call those the Sword—Rhindon."

"After the High King Peter's sword," Caspian murmured. "That strikes me as a very good name." He was silent for awhile, searching for the sky. At last he said "I see another—or two, rather. They're close together." He lifted her arm and traced the patterns in the sky for her. "Those I should call the Cordial and the Dagger."

"Caspian! You shouldn't flatter me so!"

"I don't flatter. There they are, clear as the High King's sword. And what, do you not deserve your place among these new constellations? You are one of the four monarchs of the Golden Age."

"Do you know, it's odd, but there are moments where I don't really think of myself as a queen? I mean, I know I am, and I love Narnia, but it seems so strange that I should be a ruler. I'm only Lucy Pevensie. I'm just a girl."

"I know exactly what you mean," Caspian answered. "I feel so much more natural out here at sea than I do in my throne room. I know I can't give up my duty to Narnia, but it's good to be free for a little while."

"It's easier to do your duty when your people love you. When you see how happy they are to see your return, you'll be happy to be home, too," Lucy said wisely. "Even if you do have to go hunting for a wife."

"Hopefully I won't have to look too far," Caspian said. Edmund watched him carefully, but Caspian kept his voice light and he avoided any significant looks at Lucy.

Even so, Lucy turned to look at him again, studying his face carefully for a long moment before agreeing, "No, hopefully you won't."

Edmund's heart jumped into his throat. He had thought this was impossible, that it would be years before Lucy gave Caspian any serious thought, but the look in her eyes and the softness of her voice told him otherwise. He wanted to get up and shake her and drag her away to her cabin and lock her up until she was old enough to understand what she was doing.

He stopped himself. What was the problem, after all? He himself had acknowledged how well Lucy and Caspian were matched. But Lucy was so young. She was blind to all of Caspian's faults: his willfulness, his impetuosity. He was good and kind and noble, but he hadn't grown into his kingship yet. He needed wisdom. Edmund kept wondering what Peter would say if he were there, and he couldn't help but think that his brother would frown on this match at this moment. Lucy couldn't give her heart away yet. And she was so giving of herself, what would happen to him? Would she still be the same sister she'd always been if she gave her love to Caspian? Would he still have his place in her heart?

Presently Caspian spoke again. "I've found another constellation. Look by the moon, and you can see the Horn."

Lucy clapped her hands lightly. "That's perfect! But we're missing one."

"Edmund is harder. He had no gifts, and that's the obvious symbol. Why is it that he had no gifts?"

Edmund held his breath, but he should have known it was needless. Lucy was steadfast. "That's a long story for another time," she said. "But look. This one is more abstract, like our Draco back home, but look carefully just there. You can see a figure dividing a staff in two." At first Caspian couldn't see it, and she spent a minute guiding his eyes. Once he did, she announced "I should call that the Broken Wand, after what Edmund did at the Battle of Beruna. I never saw that moment, but I always imagined it was incredible. He did what no other Narnian, not even Peter, could do."

Caspian laughed a little nervously. "It's a wonder that any man had the courage to ask for your hand or your sister's. Not only did they have to meet your brothers' approval—a daunting task—but they had to find some way to match your esteem of them. Else how could they coax you away from your family?"

"You'll notice that no one did," Lucy said with a smile.

Edmund grinned and lay back again with his hands behind his head. He stared at the constellation Lucy had picked out for him. At first he was smiling, for what did he have to worry about? Lucy clearly wasn't going to just give her heart away; she never had. But as he considered everything, he realized she was far closer to it now at thirteen than she had ever been as a full grown woman in Narnia.

* * *

_A/N: I had a very productive weekend: I almost fell off the side of a mountain, but lived to post another chapter (which I wrote prior to my near death episode)._

_ The author might be responsible for some exaggeration on this point._

_Chapter 9 is also almost complete, and that should be up v. shortly. I also want to say thanks to all of you for weighing in on my AU dilemma. I think that this story will end canonically, but I'm already dabbling in the AU...it's just too tempting a possibility. _


	9. 9 The Utter East

Chapter 9: The Utter East

The sun was setting behind them in the most extraordinary blaze of colors. It wasn't just pinks and golds in the sky but deep and vibrant purples and oranges, and each color was fiercer and more real than he had ever seen before. The whole sky spread out behind him with an immensity that seemed to echo all their long voyage. Looking at the glowing sun as it melted into the dark ocean gave Caspian a headache, but he couldn't look away. It was too beautiful.

What finally did get him to turn was the cry of "Land in sight!" Then he rushed forward to lean over the railings and see what looked like a country on fire, set alight by the sinking sun.

"Oh!" he heard Lucy breathe nearby. He thought she might continue, but words had failed her.

The Dawn Treader looked for a place to put in, but they had to sail some way along the coast looking for a harbor. The advantage to this was that they could look back and see the shape of the country silhouetted against the fiery sky. Caspian could see it was a gentle country, all low hills and soft valleys that contrasted sharply with all the places they'd visited so far. It was more natural than the peopled and explored Lone Islands, softer than Dragon Island, less ominous than Deathwater. He could not imagine any such dwelling as Coriakin's house on this island.

Eustace sniffed. "What is that smell?" he asked.

"It's lovely," Lucy said. "A dim, purple kind of smell."

"It might be rot," Edmund suggested practically.

"No," Caspian said. "It's more…I know what you mean, Lucy."

Just as the island had no high, sharp mountains, it also lacked a deep harbor. The best the crew could find was a shallow bay. The sea had been very calm, but waves were breaking on this shore, and they tossed the boat upon the sand. As the party moved away from the beach, the sound of the waves was musical but remote. Though he was surrounded by people, the ceaseless soft crashing made Caspian feel lonely and filled him with a beautiful sort of melancholy. He didn't know if he liked the effect this country had upon him, and he found he wanted to walk with Lucy.

He hadn't intended to walk far. He thought they might get a lay of the land and then turn back to spend the night on the ship. He should have known by then that no island in the uncharted east was an ordinary island and every simple exploration would yield some strange discovery. They found the sleepers at a table with the most glorious feast he could ever have imagined. The ship's company was struck dumb by the sight.

Edmund thought it odd that they had been sleeping so long to let their hair grow so that it twined among the plates and cups and cataracts of fruit. Lucy added thoughtfully, "It must be an enchanted sleep. I felt the moment we landed on this island that it was full of magic. Oh! Do you think we have perhaps come here to break it?"

Caspian smiled at her, for once again she had expressed aloud the very thing he had been thinking. "We can try," he said, and shook the nearest sleeper.

He hadn't really expected it to work; he knew enchantments took much more to break. Still, the attempt yielded interesting results, as each of the sleepers said something.

Drinian echoed the most interesting comment. "_Out oars for Narnia_, eh?"

"Yes," he answered, "you are right, Drinian. I think our quest is at an end." As he stooped to examine the rings of each of the men, the queerest feeling rushed into him. He had begun to feel the voyage might go on forever, that they would always be seeking the end of the quest, and as long as they were looking for the lords he could not be chided for breaking a vow to Narnia. Now, however, it was clear that the moment had come. Short of waking the lords, Caspian had fulfilled his oath, and his kingship was pulling him home. The rush of success was greatly tempered by the end of adventures.

After some debate and some uncertainty he stayed the night by the sleeping lords, along with Reepicheep (who was the first to propose staying, of course), Edmund, Eustace, and Lucy. They all chose their seats carefully, even Reepicheep, for the lords seemed barely human and since the place was so full of magic that anything might happen. He didn't want to be too close to the sleepers, but sitting too far away where he couldn't see them and they could…well, Reepicheep might be able to brave anything, but Caspian's imagination overpowered him sometimes.

There was a chill in the quiet air as they settled into their places. He could still hear the breakers on the shore. They wrapped themselves in their sea cloaks and stared at each other between the pyramids of fruit and plates of food.

At first they tried to talk. "Do you really think the food put them in this sleep?" Lucy asked. "It looks so lovely: such a feast can't be evil magic."

"It's precisely because it looks so lovely that I should say the food worked upon them," Edmund said at once, and in a very serious voice. "There are a lot of things in this world that can seem fair but are foul."

Lucy caught some significance in this statement. She made an "Oh" with her mouth and leaned back in her chair and said no more. Caspian could not help but feel he missed something.

Eventually they all fell silent. Caspian reached for Lucy's hand and found that she had stretched hers out to meet him halfway. Her fingers were cold and he noticed that her hand was small in his, but there was still comfort in her touch.

After awhile his eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep. It was a light sleep with fleeting dreams of quarrels and sailing west. In one, Lucy stood between him and Edmund, and he was arguing with the king, but he didn't know why. In another, Reepicheep told him "I'll awake the lords. You go back home to Narnia. That's a good boy." Then Lucy was swimming in the water, and he reached out for her, but she slipped beyond his grasp and beneath the waves.

He woke with a start to find that it was still a black, dark night, but all the stars had changed positions. Of the new constellations that he and Lucy had named, only the Sword still burned in the north. The Cordial was just setting in the east. The sky was now unfamiliar and, seen from that land, eerie. There was the faintest gray suggestion of dawn in the east. He looked around the table and saw that everyone was awake and staring as if they too had been dozing. "It's so cold," Lucy whispered, so quietly that Caspian was sure he was the only one who had heard her. He still held her hand; he clasped it tighter.

Now the magic of the island began to show itself. In the low hillside opposite them a door opened and a figure emerged bearing a candle. Caspian stared hard through the darkness trying to see something of this person, but he could discern nothing but the light they held. This figure drew nearer, and presently Caspian could see that it was a woman, a young woman with flowing golden hair the color of a pale winter sun. She was dressed in a blue that matched the transparency of her eyes, and yet there was something inscrutable in her gaze. In all the works of art Caspian had ever seen, she was the most fair, a living work of alabaster, fairer than Queen Susan. She was so beautiful it startled him. He felt as though someone had struck him in the chest, stopped his heart for a second.

Reepicheep was on his feet at once. Caspian let go of Lucy's hand and staggered to his feet. The others followed suit.

She spoke. "Travelers who have come far to Aslan's Table, why do you not eat and drink?"

Caspian answered because her eyes were boring into him, sharp and clear as the stars themselves. "Madam," he said, "we feared the food because we thought it had cast our friends into an enchanted sleep."

"They have never tasted it," she answered. Her voice was melodic, almost unnaturally so. Every time she spoke it seemed as though she were creating a new song.

All the while, her eyes were fixed on Caspian until Lucy spoke. "Please," she said, "What happened to them?"

The lady broke her gaze with Caspian and looked at Lucy and the rest of the company as she told of the quarrel of the travelers. She spoke of a Knife of Stone, and Eustace wanted to know what this was. Her glance fell on the table near where she had set the light, and Caspian followed her eyes. He noticed for the first time in all the hours they had been there that a curious and cruel looking knife lay among the gay feast.

"Do none of you know it?" she asked, always with her powerfully musical voice.

"I—I think," said Lucy, "I've seen something like it before. It was a knife like it that the White Witch used to kill Aslan at the Stone Table long ago."

"It was the same," the lady answered with an incline of her head "and it was brought her to be kept in honor while the world lasts."

Caspian's eyes shuttled between these two women. He had gotten to his feet before this nameless lady of incomparable beauty because he felt she was great, yet at his side was one of the greatest Queens Narnia had ever known. Lucy had defended his nation against the White Witch, a force far more terrible than his petty uncle. This woman before him spoke of the Knife as if she knew the story well, but Lucy had been there. She had seen Aslan die, and she had seen him renewed. It was she and her sister alone of all the people in history who had heard the Stone Table crack and saw Aslan renewed. Doctor Cornelius had translated the writing on the walls of Aslan's How one night while they lay in wait for help to come, and it told of that moment, and of Lucy. Why was it that Caspian had never realized this before? He was on his feet before this yellow-haired woman, but he ought to be on his knees before the golden-haired queen.

Edmund drew him from these thoughts. His mouth was very red and his eyes looked troubled as he addressed the lady in blue. "Look here," he said, "I hope I'm not a coward—about eating this food, I mean—and I'm sure I don't mean to be rude. But we have had a lot of queer adventures on this voyage of ours and things aren't always what they seem. When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what just might happen with a witch, too. How are we to know you're a friend?" Again, as Edmund spoke, Caspian had the feeling he was missing some significance in the words. He did not doubt this woman, but he wondered that Edmund might.

She fixed her eyes on Edmund "You can't know," she said. "You can only believe—or not."

Edmund returned her gaze, considering her carefully. Reepicheep piped up. "Sire," he said, addressing Caspian, "of your courtesy fill my cup with wine from that flagon: it is too big for me to lift. I will drink to the lady."

As he obeyed Reepicheep's request, he noticed that Edmund have him a swift sidelong glance. Reepicheep pledged the young woman with his glass, though Caspian was hard pressed to remember the last time he had pledged Lucy. They all began to eat.

"Why is it called Aslan's Table?" Lucy asked. Caspian smiled at her. She was the explorer: she asked all the questions.

"It is set here by his bidding for those who come this far," the girl answered, and he could understand even less in her eyes as she looked at Lucy. "Some call this island the World's End, for though you can sail further, this is the beginning of the end."

Caspian felt a thrill run through him like a current. He exchanged a glance with Reepicheep and saw his own excitement reflected in the mouse's eyes. He had wanted to find the lords, but his deeper dream he shared with Reepicheep; he wanted to see the end of the world. This woman renewed his hope. Perhaps the adventure could go on after all. He scarcely heard the question Eustace asked. Still, he had to make sure he fulfilled his first oath, and he spoke to the lady.

"And what are we to do about the Sleepers?" he asked. "In the worlds from which my friends come, they have a story of a prince or a king coming to a castle where all the people lay in an enchanted sleep. In that story he could not dissolve the enchantment until he had kissed the princess." He gave Lucy a sidelong glance and a quick smile. It was she, after all who taught him the story during one of their long conversations together during the storm. She said nothing, but he saw in her eyes that she was pleased he remembered so well.

The lady seemed to take a different meaning from Caspian's words. "But here it is different. Here he cannot kiss the princess till he has dissolved the enchantment," she said, looking directly into his eyes so hard that for a second he could see behind her veiled expression.

Caspian's insides jumped. Had he said more than he meant to? What was the meaning of her placid smile? Still, he latched on to the most important part, that it was in his power to awaken these Sleepers, that Lucy was right after all: they had come to break the enchantment. "Then in the name of Aslan, show me how to set about that work at once," he said, using the same ringing voice with which he had shown his mastery over Gumpas.

"My father will teach you that," she replied, and Caspian was unsure if he was frustrated or intrigued by all her mystery.

Before he could really begin to wonder about her father, the man appeared, shimmering in the grayness before the dawn. The woman said nothing further but joined hands with her father. Facing the east, they both opened their mouths to sing. It was a song like Caspian had never heard before, high and piercing and extremely beautiful, but also cold and remote. It was a song filled with the magic of the island, or a song that filled the island with its magic. Either way, Caspian was sure they were connected. He was not at all astonished that this woman could sing like this, for she had appeared remote and mystical to him all this while.

The song went on, and Caspian found he was holding Lucy's hand again with no memory of the actual moment when he had taken it. He did not turn to look at her, but he already knew the expression of wonderment written across her face.

Then at last the gray turned to white, and then pink, and as the father and daughter reached the highest, most piercing note, the sun rose from the edge of the ocean, and its first rays shot down the table and illuminated the stone knife. Caspian remembered that moment for the rest of his life, because he would never again feel such fear and awe and wonder and excitement all at the same time. Lucy gripped his hand very tightly.

After the sunrise came the birds, white birds echoing the song in human voices, birds that covered everything and took away the remains of the feast, so that when they left and the sunrise was over, there was nothing on the table but glittering gold and silver and the dull, severe color of the Stone Knife.

The old man turned to them and said "Welcome, travelers to the World's End."

This welcome reminded Caspian that he wanted to sail further and see where the end really was, but that he could not do so without breaking the enchantment. He addressed the man. "Sir," he said, "will you tell us how to undo the enchantment which holds these three Narnian lords asleep?"

"I will gladly tell you that, my son. To break this enchantment you must sail to the World's End, or as near as you can come to it, and you must come back having left at least one of your company behind."

Caspian shared a look with Reepicheep, and the mouse asked "And what is to happen to that one?"

"He must go on into the utter East and never return into the world."

"That is my heart's desire," Reepicheep said instantly, and Caspian felt that Reepicheep had spoken for them both.

Caspian asked him about what lay to the east for navigational purposes, but he found that he didn't really want to know ahead of time. He wanted to see, not hear. But the man, Ramandu, revealed that he could not say anything useful of the rest of the eastern world, for he was a star. Then Caspian understood the magic of this place. It was the same wonder that filled him as he stared up at the star-speckled sky in the evenings, a cold, wild sort of feeling. His daughter was shrouded in that same sort of remote beauty.

Then came the moment where Ramandu put the challenge before him. "Are you yet resolved?" he asked. "Will you sail further east and come again, leaving one to return no more and so break the enchantment? Or will you sail westward?"

"Surely, Sire," said Reepicheep, turning to Caspian, "there is no question about that? It is very plainly part of our quest to rescue these three lords from enchantment."

"I think the same, Reepicheep," Caspian answered. "And even if it were not so, it would break my heart not to go as near the world's end as the Dawn Treader will take us." But he reflected aloud that the crew did not have the same wanderlust he shared with Reepicheep, and though he would have gone on alone with the mouse, he couldn't force the men to go further. He knew they wanted to go home, and it hurt him to think that he would have to turn from adventure for his people's sake. He thought hard and fast of a way to convince them to come as far as the last seas would take them. "And then," he concluded, reminded of something else, "There's poor Lord Rhoop. He's a broken man." And he told Ramandu of Rhoop's rescue from the dark island.

"I can give him what he needs most," said Ramandu. "In this island there is sleep without stint or measure, and sleep in which no faintest footfall of a dream was ever heard. Let him sit beside these other three and drink oblivion till your return."

"Oh, do let's do that, Caspian," Lucy breathed. "I'm sure it's just what he would love."

Caspian turned to her with a look which plainly said that he admired and shared in her compassion. He would have said something aloud, but the arrival of Drinian and the ship's crew prevented him. Now Caspian felt this was a moment where he had to show his colors not as wayfairer, but as king. There was some debate among the crew whether to go forward or go back, and it began to get heated enough that Edmund whispered to Caspian "This isn't going to be much fun. What are we to do if half these fellows hang back?"

"Wait," Caspian answered, "I've still a card to play." In his mind, he began rehearsing his speech, borrowing the language he had heard the High King Peter use to direct and inspire his armies.

Meanwhile, Lucy turned to Reepicheep. "Aren't you going to say anything, Reep?" she asked.

"No. Why should your majesty expect it?" the mouse answered, and his high voice carried to the whole crew. "My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east on the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek will become head of the talking mice in Narnia."

Caspian wanted to cheer, but he checked himself. Not only had Reepicheep expressed the exact nature of the voyage and struck a chord in his own heart, he also played the perfect prelude to the speech Caspian had been rehearsing in his head for the past few minutes. Now the young king sensed his moment, and he stood to address the company. "Friends, I think you have not quite understood our purpose. You talk as if we had come to you with our hat in our hand, begging for shipmates. It isn't like that at all. We and our royal brother and sister and their kinsman and Sir Reepicheep, the good knight, and the Lord Drinian have an errand to the world's edge." Even as he spoke these words he felt a thrill run through him. He continued in an even stronger voice. "It is our pleasure to choose from among such of you as are willing those whom we deem worthy of so high an enterprise. We have not said that any can come for the asking. That is why we shall now command the Lord Drinian and Master Rhince to consider carefully what men among you are the hardest in battle, the most skilled seamen, the cleanest of life and manners; and to give their names to us in a schedule." He took a breath and looked around at the company, some of whom were slack jawed at this sudden show of mastery. Caspian continued, going for the final blow. "Aslan's mane! Do you think the privilege of seeing the last things is to be bought for a song? Why, every man that comes with us shall bequeath the title of Dawn Treader to all his descendants and when we land at Cair Paravel on the homeward voyage he shall have either gold enough or land enough to make him rich all his life. Now—scatter over the island, all of you. In half an hour's time I shall receive the names that Lord Drinian brings me."

All the sailors stared at each other for a moment, dumbfounded. Then they began to shuffle away, talking in little knots or bunches.

"Well played," Edmund said under his breath.

"Thanks. I borrowed your brother's trick of speech and your logic. I figured they couldn't fail me." He clapped Edmund on the back and added "And now for the Lord Rhoop."

He was about to send for the lord when he noticed that he had already seated himself at the table beside the Lord Argoz. Ramandu's daughter stood beside his chair. "Daydreams," he muttered, "are almost always good. I have daydreamed of being reunited with my friends for a long time."

"He must have been so lonely," Lucy whispered in a tearful voice. "I can't even imagine: having to face all that and face it alone."

"Come," Caspian answered, "You and I shall stand beside him now."

Ramandu laid his hands on Rhoop's tired white head. The lord stretched out one hand to Lucy and one to Caspian, and a delicious expression of rest and peace crept into his eyes. The next time Caspian would see such utter peace and such delight in that peace in a face would be when he rocked his infant son to sleep. Rhoop sighed, his head fell forward, and he slept.

"Poor Rhoop," Lucy said, stroking the hand she still held, "I _am_ glad. He must have had terrible times."

Eustace shuddered. "Don't let's even think of it."

Now Caspian wandered away to let the crew decide more freely that they most certainly didn't want to be left out. As he passed the knots of sailors, he could hear from snatches of their conversation that his speech had worked just as he had planned.

In his walk he came upon a promontory of land facing east. Upon this spit of land were huge rocks that he thought were ideal for sitting and seagazing. He settled down with his back against one. The stone was weathered smooth. It was still early morning and even in spite of all that light, there was still a chill in the air. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around him and stared at the horizon, pondering what lay past this land at the end of the world. The sun was very large and very bright in his eyes, but he tried to stare past the great quantity of light.

Presently he heard voices nearby, but it was not the voices of sailors. It was the lady talking with Lucy. "And now," she was saying "Since you have asked so many questions of me, it is my turn to ask some things of you."

"Ask me anything you like," Lucy said frankly.

"Is it true you are that Queen who saw Aslan's death at the Stone Table?" Caspian could detect a note of soft wonder in her voice.

"And rise again," Lucy reminded her. "Yes. I was there." Caspian noticed how different their voices sounded. The star's daughter spoke with soft, veiled tones, but Lucy's voice rang clear and true as a bell.

"Then your brother who is with you—he is not the High King, but the one who—"

"Hush. Don't speak of that," Lucy said quickly.

"Do you mean to say these Narnians do not know?"

"I do. When Edmund came back to us, Aslan said we were not to speak to him of what was in the past. I dare not disobey that command, and since Peter extended it to all of Narnia we have kept our silence." Caspian was impressed. This was the first time he had ever heard Lucy use the clear commanding voice of a monarch, but she used it with authority.

All of this was very trying on Caspian's curiosity. He was burning to know what Edmund had done that caused Lucy to be so serious or Edmund to look so uncomfortable. He had always known Edmund to be steady, thoughtful, and wise, far moreso than himself. At the same time, he felt he ought to get up and show himself, that it was wrong to eavesdrop.

Before he could gather the courage to admit his fault, the woman was speaking again. "And what of the present King of Narnia you travel with? Have you known him long?" Now he knew for certain that he would have to wait out the conversation. It would be far too awkward to interrupt now.

"We've traveled together since before the Lone Islands," Lucy answered, "And we'd met once before then, when my brothers and sister and I helped him to his rightful place on the throne."

"You know him well, then."

There was a long pause, and Caspian listened closely for what Lucy would say about him. "He is one of my dearest friends," Lucy finally answered. "Perhaps one of the best friends I shall ever have."

"I can see there is a closeness between you," the lady replied.

"I hope he feels the same as I do," Lucy murmured. Caspian wanted to leap from behind the rocks and cry "I do!" but he stayed where he was.

"I am quite sure he does. And that is precisely the trouble," she added in a lower voice. Caspian wondered at how this stranger could know him so well. Was everything written so plainly in his face?

"What did you say?" Lucy asked.

"It was of no consequence. Come—let us sit and talk with my father. He will be pleased to hear what you have to tell of Coriakin." They left the point together, and Caspian watched them go. He thought they made a strange pair. Though Lucy had her free walk and her confiding face, the star's daughter walked with her back very straight, and she did not often turn to look at Lucy.

When the half hour was up, Caspian received the names Drinian had given him, all the crew save Pittencream. Caspian was a little disappointed by this; he himself had chosen Pittencream because the man had such a steadfast look about him. But the sailor had failed them at the end of the world. Caspian began to doubt his judgment of character until he looked at Drinian and Reepicheep beside him, always beside him, and he thought of Trumpkin at home in Cair Paravel, truer than steel.

They ate that night in the company of Ramandu and his daughter, and the spirit of adventure ran through all of them. Lucy was beside him speculating with Eustace about what they might see, and Eustace was listening open-mouthed, having been unable to even imagine such things until a couple of months ago. Caspian was laughing at this until he felt the eyes of Ramandu's daughter staring at him again from across the table. He looked up and met her gaze. Lucy had whispered about Rhoop's loneliness, but he wondered for a second about hers. He noticed that Lucy laughed freely and often, but he could not imagine this girl merry.

She broke their gaze to look at Lucy, who had now drawn Reepicheep and Edmund and Drinian into the conversation. Caspian looked at Lucy too, and felt the warmth she radiated, the way she drew everyone into a tight circle around her. She was clear and true as a diamond but soft and warm as the spring sun.

The lady across from him was different. She looked at Lucy, but he couldn't read the expression in her eyes. He was far too used to Lucy, who wore her tender heart on her sleeve. This daughter of a star was much softer and more opaque, delicate like a pearl. She burned with a cooler, more remote fire, and that moved Caspian to sympathize with her. He had been lonely once too.

The next morning the Dawn Treader was ready to sail, and Ramandu and his daughter came to the shore to bid them farewell. When she turned to Lucy she bowed and said "Oh Queen and great adventurer, woman of legendary faith, it has been an honor to meet you."

Lucy blushed a little, but kept her composure. "It has been a great honor on my part to pass some time here with you. I hope to come again." The lady did not answer, but she gave Lucy an unreadable smile.

Now Ramandu's daughter was in front of Caspian himself, and he saw something of the wistfulness he had witnessed the night before in her face. "Oh King of Narnia and great explorer, I bless your voyage and pray that Aslan's grace may guide you."

Caspian could think of no formal reply to her kind words, but when he looked into her face, he spoke honestly. "Lady," he said, "I hope to speak with you again when I have broken these enchantments."

The smile that she gave him in reply was another that went straight to his heart and stopped it for a moment. Caspian wondered what he had said. He was merely thinking of passing some time in her company, giving her the solicitude of friendship he had been so glad to receive. She seemed to need it. But from the look in her eyes she took his meaning to be much more, even though she seemed to know how he felt about Lucy. He couldn't understand it at all. Finally Edmund had to draw him away. "Caspian," he said, "The boat is waiting."

* * *

_A/N: Phew! That was a long chapter, but it had to do a lot, so I hope you'll forgive the length._

_ Just to be definitely clear and so those of you rooting for Lucy to stay don't utterly hate me at the end, I am definitely keeping this story in canon. Not only did I plan it that way, but I also need it to be in canon when I write Lucy's story in the tetrology (info on that in my profile). _

_However, I've gotten so many cool questions and coments and wonderings about what would happen if they did stay, that I really can't leave the AU fic unwritten, so that will come next, but as a very separate story, which I hope you all read. _; ) _Thank you all for reading this one so far! _


	10. The Last Sailing of the King and Queen

Chapter 10: The Last Sailing of the King and Queen

All was different after Ramandu's island. Caspian felt they truly had crossed over some border into the freest, farthest reaches of the world. He couldn't get enough of the strangeness of those last seas. He was up every morning well before dawn to see the sun rise even though he could hardly bear the quantity of light. He didn't want to talk or laugh or even move; all he wanted to do was look at everything around him.

No one on the ship talked much or slept much. The only sound that could be regularly heard was singing: either the wild song of the white birds in the morning, or, at other times, Edmund or Lucy singing as they went about the ship. Their old Narnian airs lent a further tinge of surreality to those seas, for when had the world last heard those melodies? How was it that the voice of King Edmund, a thousand years old, was heard on the deck of the Dawn Treader?

One afternoon he was keeping Rhince company at the tiller. Neither was saying much, and Caspian was trying to force his eyes to adjust to the light. He thought he could see Lucy around midship leaning over the side and Drinian and another figure approach her, but he couldn't be sure if it was Edmund or Eustace. It was too hard to see. Caspian also couldn't look at Lucy's hair; it was far too bright.

There was a faint splashing sound and a cry of "Man overboard!" from the fighting top. Rhince started to bring the ship around at once, before Drinian even commanded it. Caspian rushed forward to find out who had fallen off the ship and found Drinian raving about Reepicheep. "Keel haul the blasted mouse, maroon him," Drinian was muttering with a very anxious look in his face.

The ship came around and Caspian could see the mouse's black shape bobbing on the waves. He leaned as far over the side as he could, trying to decide if he should jump in the water to help Reepicheep, but Drinian pushed him back. "Stand aside," he said to everyone. "I hope I can heave a _mouse_ up without help." Caspian knew that Drinian had dispensed with formalities because he was so worried about Reepicheep, though he couldn't understand why. Everyone knew Reepicheep was a wonderful swimmer. But as Drinian pulled the mouse onto the deck Caspian heard him whisper "Don't tell. Not a word."

There was no time to even wonder what Drinian might be referring to because Reepicheep was chirruping excitedly, repeating the word "Sweet!" over and over. It took a couple of minutes and quite a few questions before Reepicheep could make them understand that the water was sweet and the rhyme the Dryad had said over him had come true; they were in the utter East.

Drinian lowered a bucket and offered it to Caspian. The water reflected all the light of the sky, and Caspian could hardly bear to look at it. He could hardly believe this was water, it was so shining, and he raised the bucket with both hands to take an experimental sip. The water was more than sweet. He took a longer draught, and he felt it course through his whole body. He felt lighter and more alive than he ever had. The taste of the water took his breath away, it was more powerful than the strongest wine, and it had a taste that was sweet but not sugary, and clearer and fresher than the ripest fruit. "Yes," he said to everyone "it's sweet. That's real water, that. I'm quite sure it isn't going to kill me. But it is the death I would have chosen—if I'd known about it till now."

"What do you mean?" Edmund asked.

"It's—it's like light more than anything else," Caspian answered.

"That's what it is," Reepicheep said with certainty. "Drinkable light. We must be very near the end of the world now."

There was a pause, and in that moment Caspian realized another affect the water had on him. He had been squinting his eyes against the light since they had sailed from Ramandu's island, but now he found he could take it all in, even the shiniest, most glittering things. He could stare right at the gilded paint on the ship, and Drinian's shining helmet was a marvel to look at. He could count every hair on Lucy's head as she knelt to drink from the bucket.

She rose and looked at Caspian. "That's the loveliest thing I've ever tasted," she gasped. "But oh—it's strong. We shan't need to _eat_ anything now." He noticed that her face had changed. Her eyes shone more, even her skin seemed brighter. Her hair took on all the colors of the sun. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, but then he didn't want to talk and break the lovely stillness that was running through the ship. And then, he was quite sure if he said anything the crew would hear, and that would be a little awkward.

Everyone was drinking in the effects of the water and so no one said anything until after dinner, when Drinian pondered the current. There was a terrible and awesome moment when Reepicheep suggested they might just be poured over the side of the earth. Caspian didn't know if he wanted this or not.

Eustace broke in. "But look here, this is all rot. The world's round—I mean, round like a ball, not like a table."

Edmund frowned. "_Our_ world is. But is this?"

Caspian stared at them in wonderment. "Do you mean to say that you three come from a round world (round like a ball) and you've never told me! It's really too bad for you. Because we have fairy tales in which there are round worlds and I always loved them. I've always wished there were and I've always longed to live in one. Oh, I'd give anything—I wonder why you can get into our world and we never get into yours? If only I had the chance! It must be exciting to live on a thing like a ball. Have you ever been to the parts where people walk about upside-down?"

Edmund had been watching him with amusement in his face. He shook his head. "It isn't like that. There's nothing particularly exciting about a round world once you're there."

But Caspian couldn't believe this. He started to wonder exactly what it must be like to live in the world where they came from. Lucy said they were ordinary, but if that were so then everyone on the planet must be a great hero or scientist or adventurer. Perhaps when they went back years from now, he could ask Aslan to go with them. He would ask every night until then. After all, Aslan had made real the old tales of the Golden Age. Could he not bring Caspian to another world?

Caspian's mind was reeling. Perhaps this was just the first of many great adventures. Maybe he was meant to go on and on, ever seeking some new land, always on a quest. He envied his friends. They always had some higher purpose. Could he spend the rest of his days merely sitting in his throne at Cair Paravel? Where would be the excitement, the _living_ in that?

There was not much talking now, not even from Eustace or from Reepicheep, and until they reached that last sea anyone on the Dawn Treader was sure to hear either or both of them talking at all times. Caspian spent most of his time in the company of Lucy and Edmund, and every morning he stood in the bows with Lucy and together they watched the sun rise. They always held hands.

Then one morning, just as the birds were streaming overhead singing their strange song, she turned away from the sun and looked at him. The thrill in her eyes echoed what he felt, and he realized all over again that if his life was to be full of quests, as he hoped, that he would always want Lucy by his side. No other queen would ride so willingly into the unknown. No other lady could understand him so wholly without speaking a single word.

That was the day that they spied the whiteness on the horizon. Nobody on board could imagine what it was, even as they approached. Drinian held back the ship with the oars and still they moved forward and no one could imagine what it might be. Finally when they were close to it, he pulled the ship broadside. They came out of the current then, and the Dawn Treader sat stiller than when she dropped anchor. They lowered the boat—Lucy scrambled into the stern—and Caspian could see that it didn't stop at the border of the whiteness but pushed through it. He could hear Lucy's voice carry across the water, and she spoke with a high note of surprise. When the boat returned after Rynelf took a sounding, the sailor stood up in the bows to announce "Lilies, your Majesty!"

Caspian was thrown. "_What_ did you say?"

"Blooming lilies. Same as in a garden pool at home."

"Look!" Lucy cried. She held up her arms which were full of petals, and her smiling face above the flowers was a charming sight indeed.

They pulled up the boat, and while Rynelf was telling Drinian that the water was still deep, Caspian stepped forward to help Lucy out of the boat. She still had her arms full of lilies, and it was something of an awkward business, but Caspian managed by picking her up in his arms and setting her on the deck. "They smell so lovely," she said, and he bent to smell the flowers in her arms.

"The end of the world gets more and more marvelous with every passing day," he murmured, fingering one of the petals.

Soon the sight and the scent of the lilies was all around them. He felt that he had never seen something really white before those lilies, and he took deep draughts of the seawater and stared around at them for hours on end. The smell was even more fantastic. It was sweet but not overpowering, a fresh, wild smell. Caspian inhaled lungfuls of air laced with that scent and he couldn't decide how it made him feel. Reepicheep said it made him long to swing his sword in battle. Eustace said it made him want to run and run without stopping. Edmund said he wished there were music that could do what that scent did to him, that if could listen to that sound and smell that scent his heart might burst. Drinian said he wished he had a woman who he could take in his arms, and while Caspian could see what he meant, he thought it might be better to wait for one woman in particular. But Lucy only rushed forward and took Caspian's hands and said to him "I feel I can't stand much more of this, yet I don't want it to stop." The next day, he came up to her and put his hands on her shoulders and said the same, without realizing Lucy had said those words the day before. It seemed to be the only thing to say.

One night, underneath the excitement coursing through him, Caspian wondered how he could turn back and leave this sea. How could he turn away from all these miracles? Would anything smell sweet to him after these lilies? Would anything seem bright after that sun? Would anything taste quite like that water? He knew nothing would. The thought of going back to his regular life filled him with sadness and frustration. Cair Paravel seemed more like a prison than like home. This was where he was meant to be, in a place where just breathing was an adventure. And so he made a resolution. No one was with him at the time, and to him that was better because they would have held him back.

The next day the Dawn Treader nearly ran aground, and it became clear that they could sail no further east. Caspian saw that the moment had come to tell the ship's company what he had resolved in private the night before. "Lower the boat," he commanded, "then call the men aft. I must speak with them."

There was a lot of whispering and murmuring as everyone gathered on the poop. Caspian even heard Eustace say to Edmund "What's he going to do? There's a queer look in his eyes." Edmund reassured Eustace, and Caspian turned away from them. He would not let a moment of softness sway him. He had to remember his destiny.

He decided against standing on a bench and addressed the company from where he was. It was better if he didn't have to look at all of their faces. His mind was made up. "Friends," he began. "We have now fulfilled the quest on which you have embarked. The seven lords are all accounted for, and as Sir Reepicheep has sworn never to return, when you reach Ramandu's land you will doubtless find the Lords Revilian and Argoz and Mavramorn awake. To you, my Lord Drinian, I entrust the ship, bidding you sail to Narnia with all the speed you may, and above all not to land on the Island of Deathwater. And instruct my regent, the Dwarf Trumpkin, to give all these, my shipmates, the rewards I promised them. They have been earned well. And if I come not again it is my will that the Regent, and Master Cornelius, and Trufflehunter the Badger, and the Lord Drinian choose a King of Narnia with the consent—"

Here Drinian interrupted him. "But Sire, are you abdicating?"

Caspian was annoyed to be stopped in the middle of a speech, especially when he thought it sounded especially fine, regal, and definitive. He shot Drinian a cold look but said rather calmly, "I am going with Reepicheep to see the World's End."

The crew began to mutter in low, unhappy tones. Before any of them could speak their minds singly, Caspian raised his voice above them. "We will take the boat," he said in a clear and commanding voice. "You will have no need of it in these gentle seas and you must build a new one in Ramandu's island. And now—"

"Caspian, you can't do this." Edmund spoke in a voice more stern and masterful than his own.

Caspian was thrown for a second by King Edmund's command. He rather wanted to lash out at Edmund, draw his sword and fly at the king, for it seemed he was always getting in his way. _This should be the last time_. But he was stopped from violence by the memory of the Narnia he held dear, and before he could consider a way to counter Edmund with logic, Reepicheep piped up. "Most certainly his Majesty cannot."

"No indeed," Drinian agreed at once.

"Can't?" Caspian repeated sharply. _How can they deny me my right as king? That is the beauty of being a ruler: when you make resolutions, no one stops you._ _If I say I am going to the end of the world, than I am going to the end of the world._

Now Rynelf rubbed salt in the wound. "Begging your Majesty's pardon," he said from the deck, "but if one of us did the same it would be called deserting."

"You presume too much on your long service, Rynelf," Caspian said, drawing himself up in all his royal fury.

Drinian came to his defense. "No, Sire! He's perfectly right."

What Caspian really felt like doing was bursting into tears of frustration. _If I turn back, what am I going to? I have seen all those lands. There are no more frontiers, this is the last. Can I leave a stone unturned? I can't turn back from this undiscovered country. I can't._ This thought steeled him, and he almost yelled when he spoke. "By the Mane of Aslan, I had thought you were all my subjects here, not my schoolmasters."

He thought certainly this would bring an end to the petty quibbling, and indeed the crew all looked at one another as if uncertain what to do. Then Edmund spoke in a voice that was calm as well as masterful. "I'm not," he said, "and I say you can not do this."

Caspian gave him the only retort he could think of. "Can't again? What do you mean?" He did not finish the thought out loud, but it was obvious to everyone that the conclusion was "I am king; I do as I please."

"If it please your Majesty, we mean shall not," Reepicheep said. "You are the King of Narnia. You break faith with all your subjects, and especially with Trumpkin, if you do not return. You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person. And if your Majesty will not hear reason, it will be the truest loyalty of everyone on board to follow me in disarming and binding you till you come to your senses."

"Quite right," Edmund agreed. "Like they did with Ulysses when he wanted to see the Sirens."

Caspian didn't understand about the Sirens, but he got the general idea. It was galling to hear Edmund, a king whose reign seemed nothing but a succession of adventures, who had left his whole world behind on a whim denying him alongside Reepicheep, who _would_ get to see the end of the world. This was more than he could bear. He reached for his sword.

He had just closed his fingers around the hilt and was tensing his muscles to draw when Lucy spoke. "And you've almost promised Ramandu's daughter to go back."

He had a sudden image of the woman waiting on the shore, lonely and with no one to talk to, and his heart was moved to pity. And then there was Lucy. He had forced himself not to look at her this whole time, but he knew that he didn't want to leave her company. Not really. "Well, yes, there is that," he acknowledged. He looked ahead of him, where the last reaches of the world lay. Still, to know he might have gone on and didn't, and that someone did—well, that was more than he could bear.

"Well, have your way. The quest is ended. We all return. Get up the boat again."

He was about to stalk off when Reepicheep spoke. "Sire, we do not _all_ return. I, as I explained before—"

"Silence!" Caspian thundered in a voice louder and crueler than he had ever used. "I've been lessoned but I'll not be baited. Will no one silence that mouse?"

"Your Majesty promised to be good lord to all the Talking Beasts in Narnia," Reepicheep protested.

Caspian had to blink away tears of fury before he could look at Reepicheep coldly enough to say, "Talking Beasts yes. I said nothing about beasts that never stop talking." He couldn't look at any of them anymore. He stalked through the crowd and flung himself down the ladder and slammed the door to the stern cabin below.

He sat at the table breathing hard. He was so angry he didn't know which way to turn, and he had half a mind to go back up on deck and challenge Edmund to a duel. He would get a great satisfaction from swinging his sword. _How dare he pull rank? He's always doing that when he doesn't agree with me, and it's just not fair. Or right. How is that just?_

"Do you think Edmund says these things to hurt you?" a voice spoke in the cabin, and it startled Caspian so much he nearly fell off his seat. He stared all around and saw that the gilded lion's head across from him had come to life.

"A-Aslan," Caspian stammered. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I asked you, Caspian, if you think that Edmund wishes to hurt you." Caspian noticed that he did not speak with his usual warmth or kindness, and his eyes were fierce and narrow and seemed to bore right into him.

"Well, sir, you see I don't think he understands…" he began, but trailed off. The Lion was staring at him so hard that he was forced to be truthful. "No, he doesn't mean to. But he does."

"And do you think that Edmund is wrong in saying you should go back?"

"Yes!" Caspian shouted at once. "What is so wrong about wanting to see the end of the world, wanting a glimpse of your country?"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting it. But doing so now, when you have not yet fulfilled all your other duties, is wrong." Aslan spoke very gravely, and Caspian felt as though a gavel had smacked down announcing his judgment.

"But I can't bear it. I can't stand the thought of turning back, of going back," he protested, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

"You can, and you must. Many times we have purposes that are greater than ourselves and our own desires. There are tasks to be done and destinies to be fulfilled. Your task is to go back to Narnia and rule as king, for I do not mean the present prosperity to end with you. You are to begin a long line of kings who will protect and defend Narnia until its last hour."

Caspian sniffed and looked up at Aslan with a new hope in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't been premature in asking Edmund about Lucy. Aslan must have seen this in his face for he said, "That is your destiny. Your friends are taking a different path."

"What do you mean, sir?" Caspian asked at once, his voice catching.

"Edmund and Lucy and Eustace are to return to their world. You will lower the boat and send them with Reepicheep, who will fulfill his quest to the World's End."

"When will they come back?" he asked. Even though he knew the answer as he spoke the question, he had to ask. Perhaps there was still hope.

But no. Aslan said simply "Lucy and Edmund will not come to Narnia again. Not as you know it."

Here Caspian really did burst into tears. "But Aslan! What am I to do? How am I to go on?"

"You must return to Narnia, and you must find a queen of this world. With her at your side you must govern Narnia with the grace and wisdom that life gives you. Do not weep so, for you will find happiness again." These were Aslan's parting words. The Lion's head grew still and spoke no more, and Caspian laid his head down on his arms and sobbed as though his heart was breaking.

After awhile he realized there was little good in crying, and he sat up and tried to compose himself. That left him feeling very blank inside.

At that moment, Lucy knocked gently at the door. "Caspian?" she said softly, easing her way in, "Are you alright?"

He turned to look at her. It seemed so unfair that she could flit into his life and float away, leaving him behind just when he wanted to hold onto her for a moment.

She saw something in his face and she rushed to put her arms around him and comfort him. "Oh, Caspian! What's happened?"

He gave himself up to her for a moment and buried his head in her arms. Her scent was like that of the lilies on the Silver Sea, a beautiful scent that made his heart ache. She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Whatever it is, Caspian, it will be alright," she murmured.

He heard Edmund and Eustace's footsteps, and he lifted his head. Lucy kept her hands on his shoulders for support. He looked round at all of them and realized he had to tell them. "It's no good," he said. "I might as well have behaved decently for all the good I did with my temper and swagger. Aslan has spoken to me." Edmund frowned perplexedly and Lucy's eyes brightened. "No—I don't mean he was actually here. He wouldn't fit into the cabin for one thing. But that gold lion's head on the wall came to life and spoke to me. It was terrible—his eyes. Not that he was at all rough with me—only a bit stern at first. But it was terrible all the same. And he said—he said—oh, I can't bear it." He didn't think he could tell them, but Lucy gripped his shoulder, and that gave him the courage to go on at least. "The worst thing he could have said. You're to go on—Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I'm to go back. Alone. And at once. And what_ is_ the good of anything?"

Lucy and Edmund and Eustace all went very white as well, and he could see the sadness in their eyes. That made him want to cry all over again, even though Lucy spoke in soothing tones. "Caspian, dear," said Lucy. "You knew we'd have to go back to our own world sooner or later."

"Yes," Caspian sobbed, "But this is sooner."

"You'll feel better when you get to Ramandu's Land," Lucy said. Caspian smiled, but he didn't really think she was right.

"I'd better go and make it up with Reepicheep," he said presently, and he rose. As he passed Edmund, the king clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look that was all sympathy and sorrow. He nodded once and went to find Reepicheep.

The mouse was courtly as ever, and accepted Caspian's apology instantly. Though he tried to be grave for his king's sake, Caspian saw that he was fairly quivering with excitement on his renewed errand to the end of the world. "But Reep," Caspian said, "I shall miss you awfully."

"Miss me, but do not mourn me," Reepicheep said, "For whatever happens, I shall have followed my heart's desire, and that is no lamentable fate."

Caspian allowed his gaze to drift past Reepicheep to where Lucy was standing with her brother and Drinian. He tried to remember what Aslan had said about duty and destiny and not think about how much he wanted to follow his heart's desires, dreams which at any rate tore him in different directions.

He looked back to Reepicheep and forced a smile. "You will never be forgotten in Narnia. We will sing songs about the valiant mouse who sailed to the World's End forever."

"Sire," said Reepicheep with a bow, "I count myself honored to have served you in the time I spent in Narnia. I do not think I would consider myself more blessed if I had lived under the reign of the High King himself."

Caspian was so touched he could think of nothing else to say. He could only clasp Reepicheep in what he hoped was a kingly hug.

Now the boat was ready, and Drinian was placing Reepicheep's coracle in the stern while Rynelf was making sure that she was as full as she could carry with food and water. Caspian turned to Eustace and Edmund and Lucy, who were assembled in front of him. There were already tears on Lucy's cheeks. "I would say goodbye to each of you alone," Caspian said, his voice catching.

He walked with Eustace first. They made their way to the forecastle, where Caspian rested his hand on the carved dragon's neck and said with a lopsided grin, "I find it interesting that this ship is carved into the likeness of a dragon."

Both he and Eustace burst out laughing. "That's true!" Eustace cried, and Caspian remarked how much Eustace had changed since he first pulled him out of the water. That boy had been sniveling and insufferable, but the Eustace who stood before him had cheeks which were pink from laughter and bright eyes. He was practical to the last, but in the end that's what Caspian liked about him.

"It's a shame," Eustace said, "to have to go home just when I was growing to like it here so much."

Caspian remembered something which cheered him up a little bit. "Who knows. Edmund and Lucy have returned—perhaps you shall as well. You've got to, because you owe me a sword. And when you do, I will feast you in all honor and state at Cair Paravel. You haven't seen it yet, and it's a magnificent place."

Eustace smiled. "I would be honored, Caspian."

Edmund walked up to join them. "I think Reepicheep has something he wants to say to you, Eustace. Even though we're all going on the boat, he seems to think there won't be much talking." He looked out over the silent Silver Sea. "I rather think he's right."

Caspian clapped Eustace on the back, and he ran aft to find Reepicheep. Edmund and Caspian were now left facing each other. Edmund looked down and screwed up his mouth uncertainly. "I'm sorry for before," he finally said.

"No, I'm sorry," Caspian answered. "I ought to thank you, Edmund. You never let me have my way just because I was king, and—well, there were quite a few times when I needed that. More than I'd like to admit."

"Well, I know better than anyone that fulfilling one's own selfish desires is no way to be a king," Edmund said, looking past Caspian. He shifted his gaze to look in Caspian's eyes and added, "Listen. There's something you should know, about what I did the first time I was here…"

"It doesn't matter," Caspian said at once. "That is in the past. Edmund, I want to thank you—for everything. For helping me defeat Miraz and for stopping me from making some horrible mistakes and for bringing back a Narnia that I thought was long dead—for all of it."

Again Caspian didn't know what he had said that had some added significance, but Edmund's eyes shone and he clasped Caspian's arm and pulled him into an embrace. "I would have been fortunate to call you brother," Edmund said in a grave but sincere voice. He looked over his shoulder to where Lucy was standing. "I'll let you say goodbye to her."

Edmund walked over and spoke to her. Then she was before him, and Caspian didn't know what to say. "Oh, Caspian," she said, taking his hands.

She didn't say anymore—it didn't seem that she could—but she didn't need to. Caspian understood everything that was written in her face, because he felt it too. In one swift movement he pulled her into an embrace. She held on to him tightly.

There were a thousand things he could have said, but he said nothing. He knew he didn't need to. Only when he pulled away he saw that she was crying too, and he wiped her tears away gently. Then he bent and kissed her once, softly, on the forehead.

She looked up at him and her eyes were very blue. Then she stood on tiptoe and reached up and kissed him on the lips. It was a kiss of all innocence and chastity, and Caspian often thought afterwards that it was one of the most beautiful moments of his life. He could feel her scent that was laced with lilies envelop him and her soft hair tickled his cheeks. The touch of her lips on his was very gentle and very pure and very warm. But beyond that there was something in her face which made him think that one day she would love him, that maybe she did a little already. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure.

He walked her to the boat. She held his hand. The crew was assembled around them. There was one last round of embraces, and Caspian found himself wishing that they were dripping wet on the deck and ten days out from the Lone Islands all over again. Then before he was quite ready to let them go, they climbed into the boat, Reepicheep sitting proudly in the stern beside his coracle. Drinian and Rhince lowered the boat themselves. Lucy looked straight into Caspian's face and called her goodbyes all the way until the boat rested on the lilies.

"Shields and flags out!" cried Drinian, and the Dawn Treader was draped in all her finery to honor the King and Queen, and their noble kinsman, and the Lord Reepicheep, bravest of all Talking Mice in Narnia.

The boat was instantly pulled away by the current, and Caspian hung over the side watching them glide among the lilies. His eyes were still strong and he could see Reepicheep's fur so dark against the while lilies and the sun reflecting on Lucy's hair for some time. She raised her hand one last time in farewell, and he returned the salute.

Just then the Dawn Treader began to turn, and for the first time in many months, her prow pointed west. Some of the sailors gave a cheer.

But Caspian rushed to the stern and watched the boat sail away east until it melted into the horizon. All the while the tears streamed down his cheeks.

* * *

_A/N: sniff I got all teary eyed while I wrote this. Hopefully it moves you a little too. Still, it's hard to write on that line between poignant and melodramatic, and I hope I've walked it okay (let me know if I haven't)._

_ Incidentally, in case you didn't already know, huge chunks of dialogue in both this and the preceding chapter were taken right from the pages of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, specifically the last couple of chapters.  
_


	11. Return to Ramandu's Land

_A/N: As you can see, the last chapter wasn't the last at all! I couldn't have done that to Caspian, leave him there so depressed. So I decided to give him...more angst. But with a payoff, I promise! Later. We're actually going all the way back to Narnia with Caspian.  
_

_By the way, to those of you who said the last chapter actually made them cry, I don't think I've ever received such an awesome compliment. Though it may be slightly sadistic to enjoy making people cry, it does let me know I've conveyed what I was feeling._

_

* * *

_

Chapter 11: Return to Ramandu's Land

Caspian lay in bed staring at the sunlight dancing on the ceiling. The Silver Sea was a white blur on the horizon now, and the clear water of the sea reflected the sun again. He could hear Reepicheep splashing in the water and crying "Sweet! Sweet!" He turned over on his side.

In the first days after their departure when they were still in the strangeness of those last waters his grief had seemed beautiful, in its own way. He was thankful to have such friends to mourn, and the sea of lilies was a place where he could make a ceremony out of his sadness. Now, though, when they were almost on regular waters again he felt what it would be to go on without them and even mourning was no longer a solace. Would it really be that he would never see Lucy and Edmund and Reepicheep again? He screwed up his face and buried it in the pillow, thinking that Aslan was very hard on him indeed.

Hiding in the pillow made things worse still because it still held—or he liked to imagine it held—the scent of Lucy's hair. But no—perhaps not.

Perhaps they had never come. He had not been sleeping much and he wondered if that was starting to work on his mind. True he hadn't felt he needed sleep, but after coming away from the Silver Sea and breathing the fresh, real air after the dreamlike scent of the lilies he couldn't help but wonder if it had all been just a dream. Were Lucy and Edmund and Eustace really just figments of a fevered imagination?

This idea stuck fast to his brain, and eventually he was so bothered by it that he got up and threw open the lockers. No, it was no dream. There were all of Lucy's things just as she had left them; her small sandals arranged neatly next to his sea boots, her dresses folding into his tunics. To see those bright things so neatly arranged in an innocent display was the worst thing of all. Instead of being a dream, Lucy became so real that he felt she might come through the door at any moment to change clothes or tie up her hair. He fingered the bright blue dress she wore so often on board, and the soft feel of the weathered cotton brought back also the sound of her laugh, bell-like and musical. He would give anything to be bunking with Edmund and Eustace in the cabin below.

He didn't really want to be around people, but he couldn't look at those clothes anymore. He went up on deck. Some of the sailors nodded to him, but no one spoke. Everyone on the Dawn Treader understood that the King was much altered after his friends left and did not wish to speak to anyone. Indeed, Caspian had not addressed the crew at large since his fateful speech at the edge of the Eastern Sea and barely talked at all except to agree with Drinian's suggestions.

He passed two sailors working to fix some part of the ship. It was a minor routine repair, but they were encountering difficulties. One of the sailors let out a string of oaths in frustration. Caspian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Rynelf was passing at that moment and he looked at Caspian and shook his head. "No one dared speak like that when we had a lady on board." Caspian nodded. Then Rynelf stopped in his path and added "Sire, if I may say so, we all miss the King and Queen. She was the greatest Queen Narnia ever had, and I wish I could spend more hours talking with her as we used to."

Drinian came up on them. "Aye," he agreed. "King Edmund was a born sailor. We whiled away much time while he told me of the sea adventures Narnia saw in her Golden Age. But my Lord, we worry about you. It is right to miss your friends—we all feel the loss of Reepicheep—but what is to become of you? You cannot mourn them forever."

"I don't know," Caspian said very softly.

"All the same, Sire, I am glad to have you with us on the return journey," Rynelf said suddenly.

"Thank you," Caspian said with a thin smile. Then he went to the railing to watch the water over the side. The day was warm and still, and Caspian watched the dancing sunlight on the water. He looked past the surface and into the water. After staring confusedly for some minutes, he realized he could see all the way to the bottom of the ocean. He just noticed the black shape which was so evidently the ship's shadow, and he stared in amazement. Now he knew why Lucy had spent so much time hanging over the rails of the ship. He liked that there was still something to discover even on charted waters, and he began to feel a very little bit better. At the very least, he started to take an interest in something for the first time in many days.

The floor of the sea bed was a fine pearly color. He noticed there were underwater plants growing all along the ocean floor, and they were waving gently in a submarine breeze. There was something peaceful and charming about the sight, especially when he saw a school of brightly colored fish grazing among the plants. "They look just like a flock at pasture," he thought. Sure enough, after a moment the shepherdess came into view.

Caspian gaped. She had skin so pale it was tinged blue with the color of the water, and her hair, which was a deep indigo, fanned out behind her, waving like the plants. She was young, surely still only a girl among her people, and she was lithe and graceful. The ship was moving slowly under oar, and Caspian had a chance to look well into her face. She gazed on the grazing fish with such a look of peace and contentment it put his troubled heart at rest for a moment and he smiled very slightly.

Then she felt the ship's shadow above her, and she turned to see what was blocking the sun. As soon as she saw the ship and Caspian leaning over the side, she started and swam as fast as she could to the surface. When she got close enough to really see his face, though, he saw a look of disappointment grow on her face. Her lips moved as if she was speaking, and Caspian could see a question in her eyes. He shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "What are you looking for?"

She tried to answer him, but the water prevented them from speaking. He knew she would have broken the surface to speak to him if she could have. She kept pace with the ship, searching for a way to communicate with him. He could see there was a quest in her eyes, but he couldn't understand. Possibly she was searching for someone, but he didn't know who.

He was so absorbed he didn't notice Drinian had come up beside him until he spoke. "Your Majesty, what are you gazing at in the water so intently?" He was trying to keep his voice even and free of anxiety, but he was failing.

Caspian turned to him with a perplexed look, wondering what could worry him so much. "There are people in the water. Did you know?"

"Aye, your Majesty. Queen Lucy saw them first, but I bid her not to tell anyone. If the sailors see, it could spell disaster for the crew."

Caspian hardly heard the rest of what he said. "Lucy!" he exclaimed softly, and wheeled around at once. He knew without a doubt that the mermaid had been looking for his friend as well. _It's so like her to make friends even with a person she can't speak to. _He searched for her face in the water, but she had stopped swimming with the ship and was well astern already. He was sorry; it would have been good to talk about Lucy with someone who was searching for her almost as hard but more hopefully.

He sighed and returned to the cabin, where he pulled Lucy's dress from the locker. He liked that she dressed simply; ornamentation would have spoiled her beauty. He remembered the princess of Galma—that seemed years ago now!—and her many bracelets and armlets and amulets, and the thousand ribbons and ruffles on her dresses. She had looked ridiculous. Lucy was a queen in a blue that reflected her eyes and a skirt that fluttered around her ankles with more allure than a hundred baubles. He buried his face in the fabric, for a fresh wave of tears threatened all over again.

_She should have been my wife! I would have waited five years, ten, half a lifetime. She understood me like no one else in this world does. And I loved her merely for herself, without an agenda of embraces and kisses. I only wanted to be with her; I don't understand why Aslan took that away._

Aslan had said he would find happiness again, but he didn't see how. He couldn't even find comfort.

He was about to hang her dress back on its peg when he saw that the belt which held her cordial was underneath. He traded belt for dress and took the cordial from the locker. The shape and the heft of Lucy's gift was very familiar as he had borne it himself many times since she recovered it. He remembered when she insisted on giving some to Eustace when he was only seasick. The smell in the cabin had been lovely, and surely Eustace could appreciate it now. Wherever he was on his round world.

Caspian pulled the stopper out of the bottle, and the perfume of the cordial filled the room. The scent was warm and wholesome and cheerful, and just inhaling made him feel better. Lucy had the same scent as the Silver Sea, but there had always been something more to her, and he realized this was it. She had that same healing presence that was working on him now.

He corked the bottle and hung it up again, though the perfume still lingered. He stretched, feeling suddenly tired and restful, and he climbed into bed. For the first time in many days, he slept.

He dreamed of Lucy. They were on the deck of the Dawn Treader. Lucy was older, nearer to twenty perhaps, and she was lovely and laughing. They were standing before Drinian, who was in strangely bright robes instead of his sea clothes. Caspian looked at Edmund over his shoulder, and the King nodded to him. Drinian seemed to be waiting for this nod, and he continued with the wedding ceremony, marrying them in a strange language Caspian almost thought he knew.

Then Reepicheep was paddling among the Dufflepuds and Lucy was laughing, clutching her sides and leaning against him, trusting in him. Always, always he could smell her: the wild, free scent of the lilies and the warmth of the cordial. The sun set behind them and they walked along the sand.

Caspian awoke at last in the hour before dawn. _Perhaps we ought to stop at the Dark Island. Not all dreams are bad, and I might face a nightmare or two to live that one for real._

When the sun came up the ship became more lively, and Drinian knocked at his door to say land was in sight. They had come back to Ramandu's Island. He tucked his arms behind his head and stared at the sunlight dancing on the ceiling.


	12. Winter at the End of the World

Chapter 12: Winter at the End of the World

They dropped anchor in the same shallow bay and rode the breakers to the shore. Landing was particularly difficult on that island without a boat, and Caspian tumbled rather messily onto the shore. As he was wringing out his tunic and dusting the crumbs of sand off himself he heard a voice say, "You have returned, and you will find your quest fulfilled."

He looked up to see Ramandu's daughter standing before him on the beach, her blue dress whipping around her legs in the breeze. She looked so pristine and glowing he felt decidedly disheveled. Nevertheless he gathered himself together enough to say, "Lady, you bring us good tidings. May we see the lords?"

She turned and smiled over her shoulder. "Follow me."

The entire crew trouped up the hill to the piazza where the lords had been sleeping. The table was now empty except for the nodding white head of the Lord Rhoop, and Caspian saw Reepicheep threading his way among the plates and he saw Edmund's doubting face before him and heard Eustace's questions and felt Lucy's hand in his. He breathed deeply, willing himself not to cry. Seeing Rhoop alone among the feast was a sight that went straight to his heart.

He could not dwell on it, though, because now the awakened lords, newly shorn, were coming forward to greet him. The one who led was a deep-chested man and very dark, with a powerful jaw. Caspian felt at once that he would not like to quarrel with this man, but he would want him by his side in battle. The man sank onto one knee at once. "My King," he said, taking Caspian's hand and bowing his head over it. "I am the Lord Mavramorn. I was your father's loyal friend while he lived, and so I pledge my sword in service to you."

"Lord Mavramorn, you are well met," Caspian said.

Mavramorn rose and stood aside so that Revilian and Argoz could present themselves. Revilian was a thin, almost sallow man with great courage in his sinewy face, while Argoz was more florid and peaceable. Before he had spent five minutes with them, he knew that in their quarrel Mavramorn was the one who had seized the Stone Knife and put them all in the enchanted sleep, while Revilian wanted to chance going back to Narnia and Argoz to stay and enjoy the feast. He wondered what his father had been like to draw so many lords of such different characters to him.

In a way, Mavramorn angered him. He was a man of action and vows, but his fierce manner made one want to contrast rather than compare him to the courtly Reepicheep who was similarly intrepid. He demanded to hear the story of how they found him and he told his own version of the quarrel. _And yet,_ Caspian thought to himself, _through all his swagger he did not take my part and stand up to Miraz. He abandoned me when I was just a child to sail east, following Miraz's suggestion. If he is really so masterful, why did he leave the liberation of Narnia to a group of children?_

Here he stopped. Of course the four monarchs were not children in the ordinary sense. He smiled a little to himself. _It's true that Peter would probably make this Mavramorn cow. Look at what he did to Glozelle and Sopespian, and they were always feared at Miraz's court. _

He sighed and smiled at the lords. Perhaps it was not as straightforward as it seemed; he was beginning to understand that politics was a delicate business, particularly near tyrants. "Sirs," he said "It is my hope that you would all return to Cair Paravel with us. Narnia needs all the good men she can find, and your loyalty precedes you there."

Argoz nodded. "I have long grown weary of travel and greatly desire to see the land I once called home."

"And we will be there to fight whatever battles need fighting," Revilian said gravely.

Caspian laughed. "There are none now! You've missed all the action, my friends."

One of the sailors coughed, and Caspian half turned to look at his crew. "Ah! Of course—why stand here talking when we could be feasting as well? Take a seat, men, and partake of the food at your will." He himself drew up a chair near to where the Lord Rhoop was sleeping, and the three lords and Drinian sat near him. But Ramadu's daughter, silent and shining all this time took the place at his right. He felt her presence, could almost feel her glowing. "I am honored you should sit by me," he murmured to her, channeling Reepicheep. She turned to him and smiled her mysterious smile that told him he had once again something of more significance than he intended.

After they began to eat, Revilian spoke again. "Sire," he said, "If I may ask, what do you mean by saying there are no battles in Narnia? What action did we miss?"

Caspian got so excited he forgot his manners entirely and started talking with his mouth full of pheasant. He put a napkin to his mouth and remembered to swallow. "You will find Narnia greatly changed," he said with shining eyes. "All of the tales of Old Narnia, of fauns and satyrs and Talking Beasts, were not tales but half-forgotten history. The Old Narnia has come back from hiding, and the kingdom resembles something of the country she was when Peter the High King kept court at Cair Paravel."

Mavramorn scoffed. "Peter the High King! That is a fairy tale if I ever heard one! Our line begins with Caspian the Conqueror."

Caspian knit his brows together, rather shocked that Mavramorn could contradict his king as if he were a schoolboy and angry that anyone should call Peter a fairy tale. He was about to say something, but he barely heard Ramandu's daughter whisper "Patience." He realized she was right. Edmund himself had had to school Trumpkin, and so the dwarf came to believe in the monarchs and in Aslan. Edmund would have gotten angry hearing this too, but he would not have flown at Mavramorn in a rage. Caspian pondered a moment how the king might have handled it.

He turned to Mavramorn. "Many in Narnia thought so until recently, but the monarchs came to us to revive Old Narnia, and the Talking Beasts came out of hiding. Ask my Lord Drinian—the member of our company we left at the end of the world to awaken you was the Lord Reepicheep, the most valiant of all talking mice in Narnia. And my lords I am sorry you could have not met them, but when we first came to this island we had with us also the King Edmund and the Queen Lucy in the old stories—two of the four ancient monarchs."

Argoz and Revilian exchanged uncomfortable looks, and Mavramorn burst out laughing. "His Highness has been bewitched by the ends of the world—it shows in the eyes. Surely Sire, you cannot think that we live in a nursery rhyme?"

"Lord Reepicheep was most assuredly a mouse," Drinian said quietly, "and a knight of the finest character that I have known."

"But then we can no more believe you, Lord Drinian, since you have traveled the same bewitching waters," Revilian reasoned. "Caspian, your father would not hold with such nonsense. You must know that. He was a good king because he kept his head about him."

Caspian wished Reepicheep were there to prove his valor and challenge a duel and wave his rapier under Revilian's nose and threaten him for calling the king by his first name. Only Lucy and Edmund and Eustace had the right to do that.

He collected himself. "Then you mean to say that you do not believe in Aslan, either?"

Finally Argoz spoke. "I do. At least, I might. I don't know much about all of this. But if your Majesty believes, than so do I."

Caspian turned to him and grinned. "Lord Argoz, you are a valuable ally indeed. Your willingness to believe has earned you a high place in Narnia."

"Surely your Majesty is joking," Mavramorn said. "Your tender years have not shown you what makes a knight."

Caspian's eyebrows shot up. He inhaled through his nostrils and said as regally as he could, "I was knighted by Peter the High King, and my allegiance is to him and Aslan. My lords, your service to my father will not be forgotten, but unless you are willing to join the Order of the Lion and swear allegiance to Aslan and the High King, I regret to say there is no place for you in Narnia." He rose so quickly that the company had to scramble to their feet. He stalked away into the darkness of the Island.

He was drawn to the eastern shore as if pulled by a magnet. Even in the dim light of the crescent moon he found the rocks where he had sat waiting for his crew, and he settled against them, staring over the black water edged so sharply with silver and brooding. _Lucy was here! She saw them, sat at the table with them. And Edmund and Eustace and Reepicheep…how can anyone in Narnia say that they are not real now? After all they've done for the country twice over. But if they are never to come again, then this will be the rest of my life. I will tell my children about them and pray that they believe the four of them were real, but they will have no proof. And maybe they will not believe._

_My children…how am I ever to have children if I don't have a wife? Who am I to marry now? I thought I knew where I was going, but now even though we know the way, I'm lost._

She walked silently and so he did not hear her footfalls, but he knew she was there all the same. He looked down at her, her perfect face and her shimmering dress, and she gazed up at him with eyes that were full of compassion. She reached up, and he helped her up beside him on the rocks.

They sat next to each other in silence, until at last she spoke. "Because the story is remarkable does not make it incredulous. They will come to believe in time."

"I hope so," Caspian sighed. "What if we came all this way and they didn't want to come back to Narnia as it is now? What if they are trying to regain my father's glory? Those days are over. If they don't come, does that mean our quest will have been in vain."

"No. All that you have done was not in vain, for you have accomplished what no other ship has. You and your company have seen things no other mortal in the world has seen—not me, not even my father. Would you call that a quest in vain?"

Caspian blushed at his own petulance. "I wouldn't."

They lapsed into silence again. Except for the moment where he held her hand, they did not touch. They sat together and listened to the waves crashing on the shore for hours, until at some point Caspian drifted off to sleep.

She shook him awake gently, whispering in his ear with her musical voice, "Awake, my Lord."

Caspian started and sat up confusedly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "How long was I asleep?" he asked her.

"I know not. But come. Your crew has gone back to the ship. You should come and rest where there is a comfortable bed."

Caspian nodded drowsily, and clambered down the rocks after her. As he jumped down beside her he asked, "Can your father give me a dreamless sleep too?"

She laughed a little, a soft, tinkling sound. "Nay, my Lord, for you are meant to dream many things yet." She studied his face for a long moment then turned and led the way.

He followed after her without ever fully waking up, despite the chill of the night and the length of the walk. He couldn't say why he followed her so mechanically; this simply seemed the most natural thing to do. In the house of Ramandu she led him to a bed draped with warm, rich silks. She pulled the covers back and helped him unlace his sandals. Minutes later he was sound asleep.

The next morning she woke him again with a cup of something hot and fragrant. "Your men are waiting for you," she informed him.

He sat up and took the cup from her. "What are they saying? I haven't seen them since last night at the table."

"They think you are quite angry," she said with a hint of a smile.

Caspian sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. "Not so much angry as…disappointed. I thought the days of disbelief were over when we conquered Miraz."

"The days of disbelief are never over," she answered. "Men will always fear and always doubt. Look at your friend King Edmund. He hesitated to believe me when I spoke nothing but the truth."

Caspian looked at her sharply. "Edmund is one of the most faithful people I know, short of Lucy."

"I know," she reassured him, "I mentioned him because I wanted to say that every man doubts, even the greatest."

He sighed and sipped his drink. After a moment she rose. "I shall leave you to get ready," she said, and turned to go.

Caspian laced his sandals and paced in the room for a moment. What would he say to the lords now? Obviously he had to make good on his word—a knight who did not believe in Aslan was no knight of Narnia. He wondered why he hadn't encountered this problem with any of the other lords. But then Bern was so obviously a good man, and Rhoop was broken, and Octesian and Restimar were dead. Still, Caspian found himself wondering again what kind of man his father was. Had he heard of Aslan? Did he believe? What would he have said of the High King?

Everyone was clustered around Aslan's table talking in low voices when Caspian emerged from Ramandu's house. Drinian saw him first, and he bowed to show respect. "Your Majesty," he said, "we wondered where you were."

"I passed the night here on the island," he answered. He looked at the three lords and drew in a breath. The hour had come and he found that he knew what to say without having to think too hard about it. "Gentlemen," he said calmly, "I wish you to know that I remain resolved. We will offer you passage to the west, but unless you avow your allegiance to Aslan and the High King and his consorts as well as myself, I cannot permit you to enter Narnia. Lord Argoz, if you hold true to what you said last night, I am already prepared to welcome you to the court at Cair Paravel."

Argoz smiled and stepped forward to kneel before Caspian. "I hold true, your Majesty," was all he said, but his face was shining with gratitude.

Revilian and Mavramorn were still looking uncomfortable. Caspian said to them "Gentlemen, do not feel pressed at this moment. Speak with the sailors and Lord Drinian. Consult the wisdom of Ramandu. You have the winter to decide. Drinian," he said, changing the subject to show the matter was closed, "We spend the winter here, but we still need a boat for the ship so we can go back and forth with ease. Speak with Ramandu about which trees he does not mind us using for that purpose. Also it occurs to me that our men will need shelters on shore. It would be far more convenient than having everyone return to the ship each night and more comfortable than camping in the open. Discuss this with Ramandu as well, and have the men set about this task as soon as you know what his wishes are."

Drinian nodded. "Consider it done, Sire."

Caspian gave one glance to the crew, then turned and walked away. The desire for solitude washed over him again; he couldn't be around a crew of loud and merry sailors, especially since everyone was very cheerful to be on the brink of the homeward voyage. Most of the time returning to Narnia was the last thing he wanted to think about.

He was reaching a quiet looking grove of trees when he heard someone wheezing behind him. He turned to see the Lord Argoz trotting after him and paused to wait.

"Not as young as I once was," Argoz panted when he reached Caspian. "And an enchanted sleep doesn't exactly leave you fit."

Caspian smiled indulgently.

After he caught his breath, Argoz looked into Caspian's face. "Your Majesty, you said that we should talk to Drinian and the sailors and Ramandu, but what about yourself? If I may speak frankly…" he trailed off here, waiting for permission. Caspian gave him a nod; he was curious to hear what Argoz would say. "You seem to be very sad, but I never saw such a light in someone's eyes as when you spoke of the four monarchs and Aslan. I want to learn of the thing that can change a man so much."

"I will speak of them gladly," Caspian said. He hardly knew how to begin, but the words tumbled out of his mouth. He told Argoz of Aslan's sacrifice and the sacrifice at the Stone Table and the mystery of Aslan's How. He told him of the war against Miraz and blowing Susan's horn for help and the arrival of Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy. He talked about seeing Lucy and Edmund and Eustace splash into the water and all their adventures together on that voyage. He talked until he was hoarse and could speak no more, and then Argoz spoke of his father.

Up until that moment, Caspian knew very little of the line of Telmarines he came from. He could only say that Caspian the First was the Conqueror and that Caspian the Ninth, his father, was known as a good man and who was murdered by Miraz the Usurper. Since he took the throne he worked so hard to associate himself with Old Narnia and the kings and queens of the Golden Age that he did not seek to learn about his parents. Yet hearing Argoz talk was salve on a wound he didn't know he had. He learned that his father had the same walk and the same animated eyes. He learned that his mother was beautiful and good but also willful, and that when she was particularly set on something a line would appear between her eyebrows. Doctor Cornelius and Trufflehunter had commented many times on this same trait in Caspian, and it comforted to know the got it from somewhere, that he had a family.

He drank in all of Argoz's words, and when the lord was finished talking he pressed his hand. He wanted to say a good many courtly and grand things to thank him, but all he said was "Thank you."

Argoz bowed his head in return, and they both walked their separate ways. Caspian went to the eastern shore. He did not really look where he was going.

He realized with a pang that was one more thing he envied in Lucy and Edmund. When he saw all four of them together they worked as a team, they relied on each other, they laughed with each other. When he asked Edmund for Lucy's hand he saw in the king's eyes a desire to protect Lucy, to watch over her. As much time as Lucy spent with him, as much time as she knew what he was thinking, he knew there was a part of her that clung closer to Edmund than anyone else on the Dawn Treader, that her first loyalty would be to her brother.

_And me? Who would protect me? Who would love me more dearly than anyone else? I thought it would be Lucy, but she's gone now._ He realized that he had a lot of friends, but all his life the only people he could have called family were Miraz and Prunaprisimia, who had little tenderness for him in their hearts. In essence, he was an orphan.

He wiped the tears off his cheeks and scoffed at himself. _I cannot keep crying like this,_ he told himself sternly, but then the more he tried to compose himself the more he couldn't stop. He stood at the edge of the wood at the beginning of the deserted beach trying to master himself. He only succeeded after a long while, and then he stood there quite at a loss for where to go next.

She laid her hand gently on his arm. "My Lord," she asked, "Why do you weep?"

He looked at her and found he couldn't say anything. She made a soft noise of sympathy and then she wound her slender arms around him and pulled him close.

He embraced many people as king, but only Lucy and Edmund and Eustace had ever embraced him as a man. Now this woman had her arms around him and he gave himself up to the solace she offered.

When at last she let him go, he felt cold. "Come," she said softly, "it is nearly dinner time and the company will be assembled."

Caspian nodded, but as they walked he slid his arm around her waist. He didn't want to let her go yet. He didn't know why.

After that he began to seek her out as she sought him. He never told her of the weight on his heart, but her touch, innocent still but closer than anyone had ever touched him, comforted him.

They began to talk to each other. They sat on the rocks together and looked out over the last seas. He rested his head on her shoulder and asked her, "Have you always lived here?"

"Yes. For as long as I can remember," she answered.

"Alone? With just your father?"

"My father is not poor company. But yes…otherwise, I was alone."

"That must have been hard," Caspian mused. "To be alone like that."

She smoothed his hair and rested her cheek on the crown of his head. "But you have been alone too. I can see it in your eyes."

"Not always. There was a time—I had friends…"

"Those who were with you when you first came," she said.

"Yes."

"Why did they not return with you?"

Caspian was silent a moment. "Aslan sent them back to their own world. And Reepicheep had his quest."

She smoothed his hair again, combing her fingers through it. Caspian enjoyed the sensation and he let her smooth away the grief that threatened to resurface. At length she said "You seemed very close with Queen Lucy."

He lifted his head from her shoulder, and the tears pricked at his eyes as he looked out over the water. "Lucy understood me. There were times when I had no words, but she knew. It was almost as if she were speaking them aloud for me."

"But she is gone."

He nodded and looked down at his feet. "I don't know why. I can't figure out why Aslan took her away. I thought…I thought we would spend our lives together. The first time she was here, when she reigned, she was here for many years. I can't see why it shouldn't be the same again. I wanted to marry her. I used to dream about it. Not just daydream…I dreamt of her while I was asleep. I thought she might have felt the same. So why? Why did she have to leave?"

This was towards the end of winter, and this was the first time he asked these questions aloud. Just saying them to someone did him a little good.

She laid her hand on his arm. "Aslan has said we cannot know any stories but our own. Perhaps she had something she needed to do in her own world."

Caspian said nothing to this.

"But my Lord, it seems to me the question is not why you left her behind, but how you are going to go forward without her."

"I don't know," he answered. "There was so much I was going to do with her." He laid his head wearily in her lap and let the sound of the waves and the gentle touch of her fingers in his hair soothe him just a little while longer.

The crew of the Dawn Treader was now making ready to sail west. The winds were beginning to come from the east, and Drinian said that the time was ripe. The boat was made and now the crew was readying the ship herself. Soon they would be collecting stores and then, as Revilian had wanted in the quarrel so many years before it would be out oars for Narnia.

Caspian was walking up the beach surveying the work of his crew with some gloom. Again the old question nagged at him. What would he do when he got back to Narnia? How could he go on? Would he have to sail to Galma and marry the pallid princess?

He was dragging a long stick behind him, making a line in the sand. He had just heard Drinian's report and was a little ways up the beach from him when he heard Drinian say to Argoz and Rhince "I don't know what we're going to do when the time comes to actually set sail. The King is in a bad way."

Argoz and Rhince agreed to this so readily that Caspian slowed his pace considerably to hear exactly what they thought was going on.

Drinian continued. Obviously he wanted to unburden his mind. "I had thought spending the winter here would…I don't know, calm his troubles. He used to laugh so readily. He was so active. But ever since we turned west and left their Majesties and Eustace and Lord Reepicheep in the east he's been a changed man."

"You mean he hasn't always been this melancholy?" Argoz questioned.

Drinian laughed his booming laugh. "Heavens no! Caspian was the merriest king I had ever seen in all my years and all my travels."

"Then what happened?" Argoz whispered hoarsely, as if he were talking about some tragic accident. Caspian stopped his walk altogether and looked over his shoulder at them.

"He wanted to go to the end of world, but we—well, chiefly Reepicheep and King Edmund—refused to let him. Then Aslan called them home, and King Caspian hasn't been the same since. This island makes one prone to strange fancies—I should say that the King left his soul at the eastern rim and only his body came back with us."

Rhince scoffed.

"I know it's odd," Drinian replied. "But look at him closely and tell me if you don't say the same. I'm worried. Peace may reign in Narnia, but that was when we left. The King himself told me there might be some trouble with Calormen over the slave trade in the Lone Islands. Even if there isn't, there is still much work for him to do when he gets back. How can he do it when he's like this?"

Caspian dropped his stick and walked briskly down the beach. The line of resolution appeared between his eyebrows. Anyone looking at him would have thought he was angry, but in Caspian's head he heard Reepicheep reminding him of his promises to Narnia and Edmund staying sternly "Caspian, you cannot do this."

He started to breathe faster and there was a tingling in his muscles. He wanted to stretch his arms, maybe run a little. Then he remembered something Lucy said when he was threatening to leave. She reminded him of his promise to return here, to Ramandu's daughter. She told him he would feel better when he got here.

He shook his head and continued his walk. If he ever met Edmund or Reepicheep again in Aslan's country, he wanted to be able to say he did the right thing. And what of the High King? He couldn't look Peter in the face knowing he didn't do all he could for Narnia. He had to go on. She was right.

She always haunted the same paths on the island, and he gravitated toward these instinctively. His direction was so subconscious he was almost surprised to see her coming toward him. When he did, though, he hurried toward her.

He took her hands. "You know. You know what I have to do," he said, searching her face. "Help me."

She didn't say anything, but her clear eyes were dancing as they searched his. At the same moment he bent towards her and she inclined her head to him, and he kissed her, a rich, full kiss that flooded his body with a warmth he had not felt for a long while.

After she pulled away a little shyly, they stood looking at each other. He still had her hands in his, but he let them go in favor of sliding his arms around her waist.

She tossed her head and her hair moved in silver waves. She said with a little laugh "Here the stories are all reversed: when the enchantment is broken and the knight comes back, the princess must kiss the knight to awaken him." Then she folded herself to him.

He laughed too, something he hadn't done in months. He held her close, and he kissed her again.


	13. Out Oars for Narnia

Chapter 13: Out Oars for Narnia

Every day the winds blew stronger from the east. The sailors brought all their things aboard the Dawn Treader, and Drinian was readying the ship for departure. He told Caspian that his hope was to get a more complete view of the coasts of some of the islands for the map Coriakin had made, and they spread out this gift and studied it together.

For now Caspian was everywhere among the men, overseeing their actions, ordering the next step. The longing to be alone and to hide and grieve still washed over him, and like waves of nausea, he never knew when he might get a pang. These days though, he forced those feelings down so he could finish the task at hand. He talked often with Argoz, he consulted Ramandu, he was all over the island paying no heed to his melancholy.

She bolstered him up. He didn't allow himself much time with her, just a couple of hours at the end of the day, when the work was done and the feast was over. She understood this, and he was grateful. Even so, he found himself sometimes waiting eagerly for dusk so he could walk with her and tell her of the preparations and his expectations for the return to Narnia, so he could feel her warmth, so he could taste her mouth.

This courtship was different. While Edmund had been hesitant, Ramandu seemed to know his daughter's time had come. He was sitting talking to her one night in the chamber where she had lead him the night of his return to the island and Ramandu came to the door. Before she turned to look at her father, he exchanged a look with Caspian. Caspian made the request wordlessly, and Ramandu's answer was a simple nod.

Then too, at the beginning of the end of the world he took more liberties than he would have in court at Cair Paravel. He knew she was a maid, she had to be because of circumstance as well as chastity. Still, there was something in her kisses which told him she couldn't be. She knew exactly how to kiss him, exactly how to breathe in his ear so he would get that heady rush where he lost himself entirely for who knew how long. There was a barrier they did not cross, but everything up to that barrier, which began at the hemline, was his. Thus he knew the exact curve of her inner elbow and precisely where to find the tiny birthmark on her neck, the graceful line of her eyebrow's arch. He reveled more in these details than he did her pristine beauty. Caspian had admired enough women, looking on them from afar. He wanted someone real, someone he could hold onto. Someone who could hold him.

Strangely, since he had left Lucy at the end of the world, the future stopped being real to him. He spoke of the preparations for departure without really giving thought to the departure itself, and landing triumphant at Cair Paravel was a dim vision almost like a fairy tale. So he didn't really think about the moment of departure until Drinian said to him one day, "If the weather holds your Majesty, we will be ready to sail in three days."

He told her that night. They had barely begun their evening together and they sat in the moonlight by the edge of the trees. "Drinian says we can leave in three days." His voice was blank, and he did not look at her.

"Three days! That is soon," was all she said in reply. He pulled her closer.

Now Caspian saw that a choice was before him, but he found himself unable to decide. He would break away from the crew to take agitated walks. Drinian watched after him closely; he could feel the captain's eyes on him. He tried to find ways to reassure his friend that this was not the old melancholy but a new dilemma, but he couldn't find a way to put it into words.

Finally it was midday on the eve of their departure and Caspian was still uncertain of what to do. He had walked almost the length of the island, all the gentle dips and rises with the mysterious smell that reminded him not of her, but of Lucy. She had called it "a dim, purple kind of smell." Exactly what he would have said.

He had picked some flowers idly, and he was still holding them in his hand. The truth was he had passed up the more elegant, fluted flowers in favor of the small sweet ones that looked like violet colored daisies. He looked down at the small bouquet in his hands and realized he was still picking flowers for Lucy.

"I can't ask her," he said aloud, shaking his head. "Not if I still love Lucy." He looked out east and sighed heavily. He was starting to get a headache from all this thinking.

He rubbed the space in between his eyebrows. _If not her, then who? Galma? There is no one in this world I would rather be with, but if they came back, I know I would want to be with Lucy._

Another, sterner voice that was not really his own reminded him _"They're not coming back."_

He spoke aloud again. "When are you going to accept that, Caspian?" He crushed the flowers in his fist. Then he opened his hand and let the wind carry the petals away.

"Your Lord Drinian is worried about you," she said beside him. He was so used to her ways that her sudden appearances no longer surprised him.

He folded his arms around himself. "We're leaving tomorrow," he said.

"I know."

They were both quiet. All at once, he turned and took her in his arms, pulling her close to him. After a minute, she leaned back a little to look in his face, holding it between her two hands. "It is right that you should love her," she said. "She is another part of you. She…"

"Don't," he said, interrupting her. He let go of her. "Lady, you must forgive me, if you can. I have done you a great wrong. I have stood here and I have taken liberties no honorable man should have, especially when I…wasn't honest about my feelings. And you…you have been so good to me. So much more than I deserve. I—perhaps it's best that I leave." He backed away from her, starting now to realize what exactly he had allowed to happen in his grief. She was so noble and beautiful and good, and he had used her. He could never call himself honest or noble again.

He had barely made it five paces down the beach when she snatched his hand. "No! My lord, that is not what I wanted to say. It is good that you have loved. It has made you stronger, made you grow. And you should always carry that with you. I could not love you if it were otherwise.

"But she is gone, and you are alone. I am here alone, too, and I have thought perhaps it might not have to be that way. Perhaps we…" Her boldness failed her and she trailed off, looking away uncertainly.

"Perhaps we can go on together," he finished for her. "Lady, will you return with me? Will you sail on the Dawn Treader and become my queen in Narnia?" He knew he could not leave her. He would be a fool to leave this woman who loved him not in spite of his flaws, but because of them.

She blushed and nodded, demure now. "I will, my lord."

He pulled her by the hand. "Come then, gather your things! We make for Narnia in the morning!" They ran together to her father's house and packed all they could, laughing through the night. She left him briefly before the dawn to tell her father, and he could hear them in the next morning whispering goodbyes. Caspian forced himself not to listen; moments of farewell had forever become unbearable to him because in those sad goodbyes he felt Edmund's hug and Lucy's innocent kiss and the memory was too hard to bear.

He went with them to watch as they sang their last sunrise together, and the music was mournful and melodious. How she could be real and mortal and sing like that he did not know. He chose to focus on this instead of the tears streaming down both their cheeks.

When the sun burst forth from the horizon, Caspian realized that it dawned on a future for him. Now his whole life spread out before him again. He would have a wife and, one day, a family. He would be king for the rest of his life. The freedom of his voyage was over; everything was now a sojourn in the past. He was on the way home, and the way back to life. The future yawning like that before him was awesome and more than a little scary.

Before the crew came to the table, Caspian and his bride to be knelt before Ramandu to receive his blessing. He laid his hand on both their heads and said "Make each other happy. Live, and love, and grow rich in joy and the comfort you take in each other." Caspian glanced at her sideways and realized that his whole life was now tied up with hers. _So certainly and so fast._ His heart skipped a beat.

Then the crew of the Dawn Treader came up from the beach. Caspian wanted to make a ceremony of his intentions at once, to be done with it. He drew in his breath and said to them "Friends, this is the dawn of our last day at the end of the world. We now all begin the voyage home in earnest: the dawn is behind us and we sail charted waters. The Dawn Treader has fulfilled her purpose, and we have fulfilled our royal quest. Now it falls to the lords to decide how far they come.

"Many days of travel lie ahead of the Dawn Treader, but we want to say here that it has been an honor to serve with you all. You have been good shipmates and bold adventurers and we have not at our disposal enough treasure to show our gratitude.

"This has been a long and strange adventure, and we have lost much on the way. Lord Reepicheep is, by the grace of Aslan, beyond the edge of the world, and King Edmund and Queen Lucy and their noble kinsman Eustace have returned to their own world after being our companions for so long. We have lost a member of our own crew in the storm, and we found that the Lords Octesian and Restimar have met unfortunate ends. However, we gained much as well. We saved the Lord Rhoop from the Dark Island. We awoke the sleeping lords. We liberated the Lone Islands from unjust rule and a brutal slave trade. And now, we as King of Narnia, have gained something else as well. When we land at Cair Paravel, Narnia will have a Queen as well as a King, for this great Lady has consented to be my wife." He took her hand and pulled her a step or two forward so she was next to him. The crew all cheered, and Drinian looked particularly happy. However, he felt that she was trembling next to him, and he found that his own heart was beating rather too fast.

They were ready to depart the island before noon. All of her things were stored in the king's cabin, the room where Lucy had stayed, and now she had bid her father farewell one last time and Caspian helped her into the boat. As he stepped into the boat after her, Caspian looked into her face and said with some wonderment, "Lady, I do not know your name."

"I am called Sereni," she answered. Then after a pause she added "My lord, I do not know your name either."

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, even though he was terrified. "It's Caspian."

* * *

_A/N: Well, here you have it, folks. The penultimate chapter. I could theoretically end here, but there are just a couple of things I want to do with Caspian and Sereni before bidding them farewell for my AU epic. For those of you interested, Sereni's name comes from "seren," the Welsh word for star (at least according to the online dictionaires I found). Of course I had to name her, but I wanted to hold out until we came to a moment where she really needed a name, so to speak, when she becomes real to Caspian and fits in with his world._

_ To everyone who has read this far, you have my deepest gratitude for sticking with me. I thought Kings in Exile was long when I first wrote it, and this story still has a chapter to go and is three times as long! So thank you for caring enough to read it.  
_


	14. The Lady of Cair Paravel

Chapter 14: The Lady of Cair Paravel

It was the blackest hour of a moonless night, and Caspian stood on the deck of the Dawn Treader staring up at the stars. He had left the Cordial and the Broken Wand burning in the east. Now he was looking up at the old Leopard and Hammer. When his eyes traced out the Ship, he smiled to himself, for he thought he could see the shape of the Dawn Treader in that constellation. _Surely my finest hours are behind me. Now all I can do is maintain what I've begun._

These were the last nights sailing the uncharted waters of the east. Drinian expected to see the Lone Islands on the horizon any day now, so Caspian thought the time had come to say goodbye to adventure. He squared his shoulders and took in a deep breath. _I've had my fun, more than a fair share. I've done things that Narnia will make Narnia remember me for generations. But now I need to make sure that this generation is well-protected and happy. My own adventures end here._

_Still,_ he reflected,_ I don't think I will be without happiness._ He smile turned tender as he thought of the words Sereni had whispered to him just a few hours earlier. She would be a good wife; he was sure that they would be happy together. She understood him, and that was good.

No, she wasn't Lucy, but no one could be. Caspian remembered what Coriakin had said when he returned to the land of the Monopods with Sereni on his arm: "I rather thought you would take the young lady who was here before as your queen. She was a bright and brave girl, and if I may be so bold I would call her your other half. But I suppose Aslan has called her home?"

Caspian had nodded without looking at Coriakin. "He has."

Coriakin had sighed. "It is hard to always do one's duty."

Caspian felt this very strongly now, and he started to get annoyed with himself. This was supposed to be the moment where he let go of his adventures and prepared to sit on his throne once more, and he was failing miserably. He was just getting nostalgic all over again. Disgusted with his own sentimentality, he clambered down the ladder to the place where he could find his best comfort.

She was lying asleep with her silver hair spread all over the pillow. Even though there was no moon that night, she looked like she was bathed in moonlight, and that faint shimmer made the bare skin of her arms, and her neck, and her shoulders look like alabaster.

The ship rocked a little on a wave and one of the locker doors, improperly shut, swung open. Caspian looked instinctively for the familiar folds of Lucy's bright things, and he did a double take when all he saw hanging there were his own tunics and Sereni's one clean dress. He crossed to the locker in two quick strides and stared inside. He couldn't even see her cordial or her dagger.

"I folded up her things and put them above," a voice explained. Caspian turned to look at Sereni sharply. "They might have gotten dirty or damaged stuffed into the locker like that. Do not worry; they are quite safe. Safer than they were before. Look in the cabinet up above."

He did so and saw all the things folded with great precision and care. He closed both locker doors with a sigh that was masked by the click of the catch and went to sit on the edge of the bed. She raised herself on her knees and put her arms around him from behind. "It's all right," she whispered in his ear. "I know it's hard."

"It shouldn't be," he said, leaning back into the comfort of her embrace. "If I have you, if you are to be my wife…"

She moved so she could look him in the face and cupped his cheek. "Marriage is not a miracle. It is only two people who agree to help each other through the griefs and trials of life, an alliance of strength and hope. I am here to help you now."

"Sereni," he murmured, and even as he talked his lips started to brush against hers. He kissed her. "I hope I can love you as much as you deserve."

"Hush," she whispered. Her fingers were threaded in his hair and her eyes were taking in each detail of his face. "Don't talk like that. None of us deserve love."

Now she kissed him in the way she had that could make him forget anything. He pulled her close, and in doing so he discovered that she wasn't wearing a nightgown. He let his hands wander over the bare expanse of her back, and he wondered at every contour while she kissed him. He realized that if he dared, he could reach up and pull the sheet away from her, and his whole body became alive with that possibility. He wondered dimly if he did dare.

Then her hand was on his thigh, moving aside the hem of his tunic, and he knew that in this moment they could do what he had been longing to do since they were on his father's island together. His heart stopped for a second, and when it started again it was hammering in his chest. He leaned forward and now she was underneath him, her arms twined around his neck, pulling him close. His eyes had been closed, now as he pulled away from her lips to kiss her neck, her bare shoulders, he opened his eyes and looked into hers. And he saw that she wanted him too, but he also saw that she was scared.

His conscience smote him, and he sat up. "We can't do this. Not now."

She was trying to catch her breath. He could see the covers rise and fall above her chest. "You don't want to?"

He shook his head vehemently. "I do. But…"

"But?"

"You are still a maid. I couldn't." He looked down at her, stroked her cheek, and her arm. "The time will come soon enough."

He left the cabin then, fearing that he would not be able to hold out against temptation if she kept looking at him like that. It was better if they waited, if they had Aslan's blessing. It was better to not make their marriage bed with the same pillows and sheets Lucy had slept on. That was better. For that reason also he had refused when Drinian offered to marry them on board. Sereni would be his wife, but Lucy was his companion, his fellow wayfairer. However far away she was, he always felt the Dawn Treader would be haunted by her.

Two days later they landed in the Lone Islands, and the streets of Narrowhaven were crowded with people cheering for the King and his ship triumphant. Caspian led the parade with Sereni and Drinian at his side, and he smiled at Drinian as the people called "Long live the King!"

"Some of the ladies look quite heartbroken now that they see the lady on your arm," Drinian teased with a sly grin.

"Well maybe you can cheer them up," Caspian returned with a merry glint in his eye.

Both of them laughed loudly, but on Caspian's other side, Sereni shrank close to him. "They're so loud," she whispered. "All these people…"

Even though most of the town had come out to celebrate the king, the Lone Islands were sparsely populated and compared to the throngs Caspian had seen at Beruna and Beaversdam, there were not a lot of people. He wondered at Sereni. Probably the largest crowd she had ever seen in her life before that was the assembled crew of the Dawn Treader, a scant thirty swords. He put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him. Secretly he was proud there was some way he could protect her.

In the palace, Caspian brought forth Bern's old shipmates, and there was a happy reunion with much embracing. Strangely, Caspian found this difficult to watch too, and he turned his face away.

They all sat down to dinner, and he watched the reunited friends closely. They were five in number now, and they pledged his father and himself warmly, Bern with his noble bearing and Mavramorn in his deep voice. Argoz's kind eyes sparkled and there was something restful at last in Rhoop's face, while Revilian watched everything and said little. Clearly though, Bern was the happiest of the lot. His wife sat at the other end of the table talking kindly with Sereni, and Caspian noticed that during the lulls in conversation Bern's eyes would rest on his wife and a look of contentment and peace would creep into his face. The others who had gone on seeking the unknown had no such expression in their faces, and this gave Caspian pause.

He looked at Sereni carefully as she talked with the Duchess. She was so free with him, she never hesitated to speak her mind. Here, though, she was more subdued. Probably she didn't like being indoors so much, and Caspian resolved to eat more on the balcony and open all the windows in the Great Hall so that she might preside over the table at Cair Paravel with smiles.

He was drawn back to the conversation by Mavramorn's deep and booming voice. "Bern, don't tell me you believe in this Aslan nonsense too."

"Can you think of another force that would call children from another world? A force that would give us such a good and wise king despite his tender years?" Here Bern gave Caspian a conspiratorial smile. "And what of Miraz? It seemed no one in Narnia could defeat him and certain death for ourselves if we stayed, and for Caspian. Now Caspian is king and Miraz defeated. For me, the Lion is the only explanation for these miracles."

"Bah," Mavramorn said, looking very put out. "You talk the same nonsense as Argoz and Rhoop."

"I lived on the Dark Island for years," said Rhoop, "and I saw the albatross do what no other living creature could. It led us to light and safety. Queen Lucy said it was Aslan, and I cannot doubt her."

Caspian smiled gravely. "The foolishness, my Lord Mavramorn, lies not in believing, but in forming your belief on testimonials you don't rely on. You can only believe, or not. Look to yourself, and mock not our faith."

Mavramorn bowed his head. "My lord," he said respectfully, but he glowered. Revilian, on the other hand, stayed silent as usual but smiled very faintly.

Neither Mavramorn nor the sailor Pittencream returned to Narnia with them. There was a Calormene merchant ship at port in Narrowhaven, and the last anyone heard of either they were climbing on board in the dead of night right before the ship put out at dawn.

The day after their departure, Caspian and Sereni were married by Bern on the soft hills of Felimath. He imagined she wouldn't want a huge state wedding at Cair Paravel, so he had the ceremony on the slopes that she said reminded her of home. While she said her vows, she gave him a look so full of love and confidence that he felt like he could retake the Lone Islands singlehandedly. And so Sereni, the daughter of a star, became Caspian's queen.

The morning after their landing in Narnia Caspian awoke suddenly in his chamber. He had slept poorly all the night before, and he knew why. He was too comfortable. He had spent too many months swinging in the hammock of a ship; the stillness of the room and the luxurious softness of the sheets was too novel a sensation to let him rest.

Still, that was not exactly what had awoken him. It was the sound of singing, high and cold and so beautiful it made him shiver. At first he couldn't think of what it might be, though he knew the sound from somewhere.

He stretched and rubbed his eyes. He saw that his chamber was filled with the deep gray of the morning just before dawn, and when his eyes adjusted to that light he saw her standing on the eastern balcony. She was singing her sunrise song, but there were tears streaming down her cheeks. He made a soft noise of sympathy and slid out of bed. He went to her silently because he dared not disturb her song.

She hit the full rich note which brought the sun up above the horizon, and it came in a breathtaking display of liquid gold that shot through the room and shone in her hair. But she was still crying.

Finally her tears overcame her and she lost the song in a sob. It was then that Caspian put his arms around her. He held her for a long while as she cried into his shoulder. She was so full of grief he wondered how he ever had the heart to tear her away from everything she had ever known and loved.

"Why did you come? Why did you leave your home and your father behind?" Caspian asked her when she had quieted a little.

She looked up at him and stroked his arms. The tears were still bright in her eyes. "I had to come. The stars tell the stories of the world below, but they tell their own stories too. As I grew up my father told me that I would leave him to sail west to the peopled countries, offering what love and comfort I could to a grieving king. And so when you came, the first king I had ever met, I knew the rest of my life lay with you, for better or for worse. You are my destiny."

"Are you happy with your lot, then?" he asked. He was scared to know the answer.

She nodded. "I love you." She kissed him as proof of this, but when she pulled away her eyes rested on the now shining water of the sea. "I miss my father, though. I do not think I am ever meant to see him again."

He turned her face to him. "We both left much behind in the East. But now we are here, and we must go on together. I have leaned on you for so long, but do not think you cannot rely on me. I would do everything in my power to give you comfort. An alliance of hope and strength—that's what you said this is."

Somewhere in the east Ramandu was standing under the new sun eating the fire berry that would renew him while birds which sang in human voices fluttered in a cacophony around him. Somewhere in another world, a round world, Lucy and Edmund and Eustace were dreaming of Narnia. And somewhere in Aslan's country Reepicheep the Mouse was basking in his heart's desire.

Back in Narnia, Ramandu's daughter looked at him and smiled.

* * *

_A/N: Big breath So that's it! I might have dragged this story on a little longer than necessary (the dwindling reviews are starting to give me that feeling), but I had this ending pictured in my head for such a long time I had to write it all out. I'd be curious to know what you all think. Your reviews have been awesome, and let me thank everyone again. _

_Now rubs hands it's on to the alternate universe. Caspian and Lucy get to stay together, hurrah! Of course, it's not all primroses, but...well, you'll see. _


End file.
